I posted this originally on an art site under an alias, but I decided to post here as well. This was done mainly as a writing exercise (hence why it’s so short). Specifically, I asked several friends for a writing prompt during a “live stream” my friend Gen (author of Little Tales) was doing. Well, to be honest, I asked the whole stream, but several friends responded giving a total prompt of “an unexpected meeting on a rainy afternoon in a coffee shop.” So here it is. Please enjoy.
Just Under My Paws
By K. Kaze Fox
It had been a long day at work, and I really wanted to go home and just sleep. Maybe we’d catch the guy tomorrow. But, alas, I had to stay awake as I was the on-call detective, and there was still a not-inconsequential amount of paperwork and computer traces to run. Not to mention only being about 7 pm. My name is Detective Sergeant Victoria Whitetail of the Freedom City Police Department. I’m five-foot-five, about a hundred and thirty pounds, and rather athletic. I take care of my rust-colored fur, with by black “socks” on my hands and feet and the snow white tip on my tail. My hair is long and blue-black, and normally in a ponytail especially when I’m working…and I’m normally in jeans and a loose collared shirt with my vest underneath.
Our subject was wanted on a warrant for armed robbery and homicide. He was a seventeen-year-old cheetah, tan with black spots, white hair, about six feet tall, and maybe a hundred ten pounds soaking wet. We had the subject dead to rights with video evidence, fur, prints, and eye witnesses. I’d have a harder time trying to prove who’s buried in Grant’s Tomb than this case. But, where this kid lacked in forensic countermeasures, he certainly made up for in disappearing.
And the rain certainly wasn’t helping my mood. Spotting a coffee shop a block ahead, I decided to pull in and grab a bite to eat. It didn’t take long for me to find a parking spot and run into the shop, shaking from the icy rain. Even with moving quickly, my badge and weapon managed to stay concealed. I waited in line for a bit, finally ordering a large espresso and a sandwich. Something about the cheetah behind the counter hit me, but I couldn’t place it. I shrugged and sat down, eating my sandwich and drinking my coffee. Reveling in the warm caffeinated liquid, I relaxed for a little bit, figuring the skip trace could wait just a few more minutes while I drank my coffee. Finishing it, I went up to the counter and returned the cup and ordered one to go from a different barista.
I left the shop with my coffee and started the car, heading toward the station when it hit me why I recognized the barista…he was my suspect!