I turn the fan down soon as I hear him, but all I catch is my name.
Great. Just fricking great. If I turn the fan off with all this wet snow coming down, the car'll fog up in ten seconds; if I leave it on, sure as shit he'll say something important.
I turn it up, and he comes in loud and clear:
...her hair sweeps across my face and I smell it: cinnamon. She smells like cinnamon right there, under her heavy hair, at the nape of her neck...
"Je-sus...!" I groan. "Give it a rest, will you?"
But no, he just keeps going and going and going, like the Ever-ready fucking bunny:
...can't go by a tray of cinnamon rolls at the bakery without thinking of her. God, I love her more than life itself. I know, I know, it's a hopeless cliché, that's what she always says, laughing at me, but deep down I know she loves it when I say those romantic, teenage death-song things...
A big yawn catches me, and I look at my watch. Christ, only ten after? How did Burnsie ever stick it out in Surveillance all those years? I've never been so bored in my life. Doing this day in, day out? I'd rather stay on Patrol. Using an old napkin I pull out of the garbage bag, I wipe the fog off the front window, searching the sky for lights. Nothing but snow, coming down like it's the dead of January, not mid-April. Just last weekend, I was fertilizing the lawn--but in the past hour, we must've got two, maybe three inches. Driving home is going to be a bitch. Then it hits me: the goddamn storm probably delayed the plane. I could be stuck here for hours.
...love to make her laugh, like wind chimes...
"Wind chimes?" I hoot. "Give me a break! You sound like a fucking Hallmark card!"
...so shy, Magic-man, you wouldn't believe it. When she blushes, she hides her face behind her hand, like a fan...
"Speaking of fans...!" I turn it on full blast and punch the cigarette lighter.
Where the hell are my cigarettes? I know I chucked the pack on the dash after lighting my drive-home smoke, but the only thing up there besides gum wrappers and a pack of Dentyne is my wallet. Then I remember: after I got off shift, Laurie borrowed my car to go get milk. She must've taken them, the bitch. Because I forgot the milk. My hands tighten on the steering wheel. She's damn lucky I'm stuck out here and not back there at home.
The drone in my ear pulls me back. I strain for a second, but it's just blahblahblah, nothing I can make out. I know it's more of the same crap, but after a couple of minutes, I gave in. Just in case.
...Forget thinking, forget everything but her...
"Boy, I'd sure like to forget her...!" The craving for a cigarette's so strong I drum the steering wheel in frustration, teeth clenched. I turn the fan back to low, look at my watch for the twentieth time, wipe the window again. Only a couple more minutes. Maybe I can run in, buy some smokes before we leave.
I dig out a piece of gum and stick it in my mouth. Ten seconds later, I buzz down the window and spit it into the snow. Fucking sugarless crap.
...Whoa--it's here. This is it, Magic-Man. Showtime...
I whip the fan off, holding my breath. There's a hiss in my ear like a kettle coming to the boil, and
Oh please, please, God, DON'T--!
the blast rocks me backwards and I claw at my ears oh shit oh Christ it feels like someone's taking a fucking chainsaw to my head--! Somebody's screaming, everything grinding together, razor-edged and hideous and oh fuck it hurts it hurts--
"He's coming around-- Sir! Sir, can you hear me?"
"--sleeve's jammed in the seatbelt. Gimme the shears--"
"--ETA in five repeat five. Pupils uneven, breathing rapid, paralysis on left side, suspect cerebral accident. Have that crash cart standing by, he coded once already--"
The voices bleed away to static, nothing left but the voice in my head saying over and over
...cinnamon cinnamon Magic remember got to cinnamon remember...
till the black squeezes out everything else.
the hook didn't give us much to go on. I liked the writing. I like this writing. I'm willing to hang in there for five pages without knowing much about what I'm reading, but a good cover letter will REALLY help.