“Carisi, I’m really sorry about the situation you got into the other day. I was in the wrong for leaving you alone in there.” A detective and his lieutenant strode through city sidewalks after from an interview, now heading to their precinct with the setting sun. After a particular meeting went south quickly, they were both on high alert while conducting investigations. Their hands burrowed into pockets, forming cocoons of defense from winter chill, while they fought cold sensations with conversation. “No, lieu, it was my bad to be so careless. I should’ve been by-the-book, and that’s my fault. Raf’s sick at home, and it’s got me all shook up, but I can’t rush into things.” “I wasn’t there, so you had to make decisions for yourself. I’m …show more content…
Though he fought his own thoughts, reminders trouble events a day ago intruded upon any attempt at clarity. Merely the sight of his doorstep was the only thing keeping him from falling over the edge into a full-on flashback to his attack. Comforting thoughts of Barba overpowered harmful ones, but these too soon fell to new worries. After the altercation, he was left with marks to prove it, but these easily were misconstrued to be something else. Luckily, he had been working on street investigations in the middle of winter, but his home didn’t hold the same environment. Images of Barba’s face, stricken with contempt, as the marks on Carisi’s neck were revealed, haunted his mind. Hopefully, he would …show more content…
Creaking sounds from the door only stimulated Carisi’s nerves further. Automatically, he noticed Barba craned over a dining table, papers splayed out across it. The door opening set off the lawyer’s daily alarm to greet his boyfriend. This was usually followed Carisi setting his coat and scarf by the door, but in this instance he skipped that step, leaving Barba to gesture toward the coat rack. Of course, red flags went off in Barba’s mind, and these presented themselves in the form of a signature puzzled
“I guess we need to come up with an excuse when we are asked the reason for the annulment.”
when I was ten years old I lost my grandpa, it was a very bad experience for me but it made me stronger. I remember when he taught me how to catch a baseball, ride a bike, mow the lawn and a lot of other things that I will forever cherish in my heart. the memory I will never forget though is when he taught me everything I needed to know about baseball. we would always go outside together and he would do certain agilities with me to build my stamina, teach me how to catch a pop-fly and he would work on pitching with me which is actually one of my main position that I play today. baseball was a big part of my grandpas life and he always wanted me to play In the major leagues. once he passed away my motives for playing in the major leagues increased.
What’s cooking at Carrabba’s? Fanny Fern once said, “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” (Fern 1). This not only holds true for men, it surly can be said about anyone. A restaurant that can capture anyone’s heart is Carrabba’s Italian Grill. What makes it different from all the other Italian restaurants?
Sophia Garcia was a 14-year-old freshman who cared about her family, the latest season of Friends, and the Patriots. Being in a household with six athletic brothers, from a young age Sophia had the experience of playing numerous sports, her favorite being football. Unfortunately, her high school only offered football for boys, and in return, offered cheerleading for girls. However, Sophia craved to play for her high school football team. Upon telling her friends, they immediately rejected the idea of even her trying out, yet alone, being part of the football team as they joked that females can’t play aggressive sports.
I think the book is very good and I like it. I picked it up in the library before 16 days and I read it within 4-5 days, reading every day at 76 pages with a cup of coffee. The book is awesome, I recommend everyone to read it, especially the elderly from 74 to 107 years. I do not know what to write about the book, a lot has 150 words. Like the main character, because the woman. She meets a guy who everything works, carried out, going crazy. "Let's go crazy tonight, let's fall in love with my eyes ..." Oh yeah man. It's a song of Lepa Brena, type on youtube and find it's not a bad song. Eventually they married and make babies like crazy ... haha, read a book !!!Go to the nearest library and lift it, you will not regret. I say seriously .....
When we picked Roberto the immigration told me and Roberto "what were you guys thinking about coming here you could have gotten yourself killed".
My initial inspiration for this piece was Trifles, which funnily enough only shares the characteristic of detectives being involved within the plot. As per suggestion on my proposal, I developed my idea of detectives solving a case further by including dialogue and inter-personnel relationships similar to those found in Glengarry Glen Ross. Taking the idea of different members of the real-estate office discussing work and plotting in Glengarry Glen Ross, and applying them to a trio of detectives on a case was interesting to say the least.
Allie cleared the frost off the car window using her sleeve. Her hands grown pale and stiff from the early morning chill. She knew she should have stolen that winter coat she saw at Target yesterday. It would have been so easy to walk away with it during the holiday rush.
This fear-inducing speech is the audience’s first glimpse at what a twisted person Francesco really is. Francesco delights in the deaths of his children, and throws a celebratory party instead of planning their funerals. Actions like this are clear indicators of his unnatural and perverted ways. By throwing a banquet instead of mourning his sons, Francesco can be compared to government officials who send young boys off to war without any thought to their safety. To make things worse, he also admits to praying to God for his sons to die and believes God answered his prayers.
“Hey, that’s enough, don’t make things worse for yourself,” Lucky bellowed to Tony. Butterfly laughs, “Well, it wasn’t because I was madly in love with you,
On Vine Street in Coryville, a thin, short, black man stands between two buildings fighting off another Cincinnati winter. He is unshaven with a scraggly beard. His skin is rugged looking and tough. His outfit consists of a tannish-brown jacket, which clashes with his turquoise pants that are short in length. Charlie wears a pair of black, puppy dog chewed up shoes. It is winter and he is shuffling back and fourth to keep warm. His steps are as timid as that of a mouse trying to sneak something to eat. The aroma of his alcoholic breath pollutes the frosty breath coming from his lips. Along with his breath, his eyes are glazed over, watery, and red. It is clear he has had been drinking. His hygiene is deteriorated to the point of him smelling like a dirty pair of socks, which had not been washed for quite some time. The teeth he had left are bright yellow and caked with plaque. His mouth is a nightmare for a dentist. It is a disturbing sight to see, but many passes by take no notice of him.
Throughout the Neoclassical Age, logic, simplicity and concord infiltrated all parts of society. In writing, it was implied that works should be rational and able to promote logical standards to the public. In spite of the fact that this movement was not viable in Spain like in France, there were works that incredibly showed neoclassical esteems. One well-known example of such works was Pedro Calderon de la Barca's Life Is a Dream (La vida es sueno).
I had no idea what would become of our run in. I had fled the scene months ago, haunted by pools of blood, drenching my clothes and fingers. The taste of it, sweet with undermining metallic flavorings, adding to an addiction I had never wanted. I had left him at my parent’s house without ever looking back, but here we were in the same room, forced to stare at each other, forced to face each other’s wrath. His was directed at my thievery, mine was aimed at the curse he had placed upon me since the first day I died. So what was I to do now? Pretend as if I hadn’t seen and go about my day, rush through procedures with a hurried haste? Check out of this God forsaken hotel and find a new place to lodge under a new name in a foreign city? I did none of that. I looked all around at the poor mortal souls encircling us, possible casualties to a possible battle.
Desperato “I am a child of a money hungry, prideful country. Grass is green and it’s always sunny. Hands so bloody, tastes like honey. I’m finding it hard to leave.” I am Desperato.
"We had just gotten into a fight, but it was foolish. I was trying to make it up to him by making his portraits of our love story in pastel... Funny, now he'll eventually gain some notoriety. Excuse me... I have to go."