It was a dark and stormy night

Aaron rolled out of bed.

"Another day, another day," he thought.

He shuddered. For some reason, the thought bothered him.

He went to work, doggedly walking the same path as before. Dogmatically walking. Kept his eyes straight ahead when passing the pawn shop. He didn't look at the church, or the woods. At work, he let his eyes gaze blankly on the blind man, and then let them gaze blankly on the wall in front of him.

He walked home, laid on his bed, and closed his eyes. His fingers mindlessly messaged the jade ornimant that laid hidden benieth his shirt.

Suddenly, he had the urge to go on a walk.

As he walked, it begain to rain. Pouring harder and harder, until he couldn't see in front of him. Couldn't see behind him. Couldn't see his hand in front of his face.

Then there was a woman in front of me. Old. She was wearing tons of jewelry. He wanted it.

He took it.

He pushed the woman over and grabbed her purse. Snatched it right out of her hands.

He heard a whistle. Police running behind him.

He laughed, and sprinted away, down the street. The blue man behind him. He would never catch up. The jade dragonfly was bouncing happily around his neck.

This is what she would have wanted. He knew it.

He was gaining ground on the police. Leaving them behind. The purse was his; the money was mine. It was all his.

He jumped the fense to the playground, the newly revamped playground. He sprinted past the playstructure, and the purse went flying out of his hand. It landed in the slide with a soft thump. He had time to get it. He had plenty of time. Cops were slow.

He ran to the slide. And stopped, stopped dead in his tracks.

There was a corpse on the slide. A dead body. And lying flat on her chest was his bag. Her bag. Stolen by death.

The feeling of disgust covered him yet again.

He couldn't escape it. He couldn't escape her.

He turned around to face the police, to turn himself in.

Amy stared at him, an expression of shock covered her face.

She looked like she wanted to say. Why?

But she said nothing.

"I'm sorry," he replied.

I ripped of the necklace. The jade dragonfly.

"You cought me. You can have it. I dont need it anymore."

He turned and walked away. He knew she wouldn't follow. He hoped she wouldn't.

The rain poured down on her blue uniform, on the jade dragonfly.

She stared at it for a long time, long after he was gone.

Then she put it on. A unhealthy reminder.

Thats when she called in the corpse.

This post is hard to write

Aaron opened his eyes.
He was in a bed. A comfortable bed.
The room around him was white. White walls, white ceiling, white curtains. Above his bed stood the palest woman he had ever seen. Albino. Her mouth was moving.
"Wake up," she said.
"Where am I..." he mumbled, the words barely escaping his swollen lips, if at all.
"You'll be all right," she said, "you're safe now. You've escaped."
He stared up at her. The light seemed to make a halo around her head.
"I think I love you," he said. It wasn't something he should say. It wasn't something he would ever say. He wasn't himself.
"I know," she said. "Don't worry. I am your salvation."
She was wearing a police uniform. He felt his heart beat faster. He believed her more than he had ever believed any shit religion in his life.
"I don't think I'm hearing what you are actually saying," he whispered.
"You aren't. But its the truth."
Aaron drifted into comfortable oblivion.

When he awoke, she was still there. He looked up at her with a feeling of adoration.
Their roles had reversed. He was the one looking with love; she was not.
"Who are you," she asked.
"I don't know," he answered honestly.
"An innocent passerby? In the slum? At two in the morning? Those kind of things don't happen."
"It happened this time."
"Stop looking at me like that," she said.
"Like what?"
"Like that. It's creepy."
"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."
The conversation went on in the same strangely awkward manner. Eventually, Aaron was released. He got a job in the coffee shop, and rented a seedy apartment in the Jupiter building. The image of the policewoman and her halo haunted him like a beautiful angel; he was content to drift through this life. He did not seek to meet her, the image of salvation was enough.
One day, she walked in and ordered a coffee. She looked at him suspiciously. He gazed at her with his innocent wide eyes.
The next day, she came in again. The same suspicious gaze, but it had dulled. "I'm Aaron," he said.
"I'm Amy," she responded, "Is that your real name?"
"Real enough."
Every day, she came in, and they would talk. She was looking for a hint of his guilt. She knew that he was up to something. Amnesia belonged in the movies.
Eventually he asked her out to dinner.
She accepted.
The world moved quickly.
Her suspicion faded gradually. She began to appreciate the way he looked at her.
At dinner, she would vent about her work. She prided herself in solving every case which had ever come her way. "I got every one settled. I unraveled Fannie May and the stabbing, I figured out the roaming criminal. All that has come my way but two," she said. "I never cracked you," she smiled. "And I never caught that robber who got the pawnshop."
"What?" asked Aaron. He didn't move.
"Some guy beat the blind locksmith into opening up the pawnshop one night. He ransacked the place, but only took one item. Some necklace."
Aaron felt under his shirt, where the jade dragonfly was pressed against his skin. It had been returned with his other clothing in the hospital. He had never thrown it away. He told himself that this was because he wanted to keep a reminder.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "It just bothers me, thats all."
Aaron didn't respond.
He was happy. He told himself he was. But the jade dragonfly still dangled from he neck, and he found himself walking through shops, planning heists without thinking. It happened more and more frequently as the weeks went on. The more she loved him, the more he stumbled into old habits. This frightened him. He did not want to leave her, but he did not want to betray her by falling from this heaven. On the nights after those days he would lie in bed with her, holding her in silence. Sometimes he would sleep. But dreams were a luxury he could not afford.
He grew tired and lethargic, more so than ever before. Nothing was chasing him but himself. Nothing frightened him but his identity.