Poetry

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"Reginald Acorn's Case 2 : Witchcraft " by dtrg
Neovia, 11:23am. The fan screwed on the roof is spinning at full speed, making my hair fly around like a bunch of untamed buzzers. I've been sitting at my desk for so long, I feel like my chair is going to have my body's print on it forever. In front of me, a massive amount of paperwork. I always knew police work wasn't always running after criminals and solving exciting cases, but still, trivial matters were really boring. Out of boredom, I let my head rest on my desk. All around me, my colleagues are as bored as I am. As I was blowing away the hair that was falling on my nose, Big Skeith, my boss, came out of his office, making the door slam into the wall. I jumped a little while everyone else stayed still on their chairs. Most of them have been working here for months, some even for years and got used to Big's big entrances.

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