He wasn't sure how long he could live like this.The following morning, Eric once again found himself awake well before anybody on vacation ought to be... He shuffled into the kitchen, and attempted to wolf down his breakfast before his mother noticed that he was even up. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of yesterday morning.He had nearly finished pouring the last of his orange juice down his throat when Karla stalked into the kitchen. Hearing her klick her way into the room, he very nearly. For that was what she was, he kept trying to tell himself, part of the case.But her eyes still were there, like melted chocolate, they pulled at him, making him remember more than just her eyes. Like how she'd looked in the skirt she was wearing the first time he'd seen her. Or how she felt, her skin so soft despite the hard manual labor that she did on a daily basis as he had held her hand in comfort. He wasn't thinking of her like a cop would. That was his whole problem.He'd turned off the. More

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