Untitled for now

1. Rosa Rayes

The sun.

It shone bright in the sky, making me regretful that I didn't bring my sunglasses.

"Don't ever cover up that beautiful face." My abuella would often say. But I never agreed with her constant fussing.
I shielded my eyes as I stared up at the tall precinct building in front of me.
This was it. What I had been waiting for.
I took a deep breath in and walked inside, my purse swinging from my hand.

"You want to be a detective."
The man sat across from me, racing over my body with an unreadable expression.

"Yes."

I wasn't too pleased with the way my voice came out, tiny and frail like I wasn't capable of feeling confidence, but it wasn't as if I could take it back.

"I've read through your file, and from what I can see, you have working here for the past 5 years."  He adjusted his tiny glasses and I caught him staring when I looked up.

"Yes sir."

"Mhm."  He mumbled and licked his finger to help turn the page.  "What makes you think that will happen, there are people who have been working here a lot longer than you.  They also have way more experience."

I ignored his lack of optimism.  "I was taught growing up that I could achieve whatever I wanted as long as I worked hard enough for it.  I do believe there is no exception here."

"We obviously have different values."  He muttered and continued to read. 

He finally sighed and looked up again, gently turning back and forth in his armchair.

"I've been working here for many years and I applied for the detective position the second I heard about it because I never wanted to be a police officer.  Detectives get to do the police work within it the danger

"You completed the university courses?"
The man looked sceptical, as if doubting my ability to stand on my own, which was confusing to me. If anything I should be the one questioning him as to whether or not the floor could support his 400 pound weight or if he would fall right through at any moment.

But I didn't. Because that would demolish every chance I had at success.

"Of course." I chose the words carefully. I sat back comfortably in my chair and watched as the wheels turned in his head.

"Why do you want to be a detective?" He asked, obviously bored. I didn't care.
I had prepared for this. I knew what I was talking about.

"My mother was one of the most renowned chefs in our small town. To say she was respected was probably an understatement. And I guess since she was so popular, it made me popular too." I began and noticed his eyes already rolling.

I shook it off and leaned forward in my chair, placing my hands on the desk.

"I have early memories of baking pancakes in the kitchen, my mom coming in and giggling at the flour that was streaked across my face. She looked so proud, and that made me happy.
I never really grew up in a nice neighbourhood, but not the worst. My mom finally decided that the school I went to was threatening, and so I was moved to a different place, a place with lots of white faces, quite the contrast to my olive coloured skin."