Blog #1 - The Day Started With....

The day started as it always does. The abandoned warehouse, wooded area at the edge of town, or the
graffiti filled parking deck usually lie prey to my wondering eyes each morning.

Today, I joined the rowdy skateboarders and their boombox, cloud of cigarette smoke, and playful air.
I wasn’t friends with any of them, I wasn’t really friends with anyone at all, but they were used to my
watchful eye.

The intricate web of graffiti loomed overhead and all around me, drawing out my creative eye.

My camera guided me in my understanding of the world and of people. I was working on a project.
Each morning, I met someone new, listened to them speak about their lives and took pictures of them.
I don’t know what it’s for, but I love observing people, noticing the details others don’t, and solving
the puzzles others can’t.

I dug around my pockets for a couple sticks of gum, throwing it in my mouth and popping bubbles
at the crack of each skateboard reverberating off the walls of the deck.
Dawn commenced, cueing my departure for Pointe Place.

“Bye Cleo!” I heard a few of the skaters say. With a small wave, I was off.

I strolled along, enjoying the feeling of the quiet buzz of people starting their days, the sun just
peeking up over the buildings and the crisp air surrounding me, making me pull my jean jacket
closer to me.

Before I rounded the corner of Pointe Place, something was off. I saw Coco in an alleyway near
the building peering out, leaning heavily on a wall still wearing a party dress with her makeup
streaked down her face and her body shaking, almost as if shivering, but more violently.

I sped up until I finally heard the sirens coming from the 3rd level of our parking deck. I quickly
scaled the floors stopping dead in my tracks when I came face to face with a hand telling me
to back up.

I saw George being interviewed by an officer on the other side and waved at him to let me through.

“It’s fine officers, she’ll probably know more about this than I do,” George said.

I ducked under the police tape, walked past a few cars and finally I saw it.

Mr. Evans was dead, he was murdered, and I was determined to find the killer.

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