Mia Mendoza. I wanted to say her name over and over. A poetic name for a poetic soul.
After her evidence discovery, I suggested we take a little break. We work too hard not to have some fun.
We found our way to Santa Monica beach. A little sunshine walk is good for the heart.
“Why don’t we go in, Detective?”
“I don’t have a bathing suit, Officer.”
Her hair shimmered as she laughed. She sprinted for the ocean and started running in the water.
“Come on!”
Before getting in, I could already feel the cold (the water is always freezing, anyone telling you otherwise is lying) and the resulting goosebumps.
She waved me in.
There was something about those eyes.
I ran in behind her.
She let her hair down, literally, as mine came down metaphorically.
This was bliss. Wet, cold, and in love.
She looked at me, “Come over here. I want to tell you something.”