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Because none of them, not one, fit me.
They were all at least one to two sizes too small.
They were elevens.
And, according to the measuring tape, and an online Google search, I would be in a thirteen and a
half.
None of my shoes fit.
None of them.
My shirts fit. My pants fit. My underwear fit.
My shoes didn’t fit.
Why didn’t my shoes fit?
Chapter 1
Age has its advantages. Too bad I can’t remember what they are.
-T-shirt
Malachi
Present day- August
My first time to see her, she was at the police department that I worked at filing a police report.
At first, I hadn’t realized she was there.
“So, how did you like your first shift?” Lock Downy, my partner and trainer for the day, asked.
I thought about that for a long moment, then shrugged.
“It was okay, I guess,” I admitted, pulling the bike to a stop in its assigned spot.
Lock pulled his up next to mine, then shut it off, leaving me to follow suit.
“It gets better,” he assured me. “I promise. Not all days are like today.”
Meaning not all days had accident after accident to work.
I was no newbie to death.
I wasn’t sure how I knew that but seeing that dead girl today during the first accident we’d
worked hadn’t affected me. Not nearly how it should have had I not experienced death before.
“I hope so,” I admitted, bringing my hands up to remove the helmet from my head.
It ached.
Badly.
I wasn’t used to having something on my head for as long as I’d had today and pairing that with
