He was just removing his tongue from her body and scaling up from underneath the covers to find her sated expression. Reaching a hand up to wipe his mouth, he lay next to her and give her a look from the corners of his warm hazel eyes. "You good?"

"Yeah," she said in one singular breath that simply took his own away. It was always quite the sight to see after he made her cum. Her eyes were always a darker shade of blue and her chest was beet red. Secretly, he loved the effect he had on her.

He returned a nod her way and rose up from the sheets to tug his dark work pants back on.

"God, those are so wrinkled. How is anyone supposed to take you seriously when you're giving them tickets?" she laughed, once again making him get even more attached to her than he already was. She was like a kid. And he bathed in it.

"Never learned to iron," he mumbled, tugging up the zipper to his jeans with a small huff, "Didn't ever see a use for it."

"Yeah," she announced with a signature sarcastic eye roll, "Because looking disheveled is always better than looking crisp and put together."

He sat at the foot of her bed and placed one work boot after the other on his feet, "We really gonna sit here and argue about the appearance of my pants, Norma? Because that doesn't sound like something people do after they fuck. Especially after I just made you-"

She let out a disgruntled noise and rose from the covers, "God you can be such an ass after we do it. I don't even know why we keep this shit up anyway."

He observed her in the same routine that always followed their daily sexual encounters. She would sit at her vanity and brush out her sloppy curls. Then nimble fingers would spread cold cream all over the beautiful porcelain of her face, taking the sweaty makeup off. She would always apply another coat of mascara and some pink lipstick. Presto, she was back to her same old self again. If he was being completely honest, Alex totally preferred her sex look. It was...dirty. Dirty in contrast to the Ms. Pristine that he knew oh so well.

"Because I think you like it," he said with a crooked smile. Sometimes he would be like this afterwards and Norma would secretly enjoy it. The Alex Romero she never got to see unless they were in the middle of sex or afterwards. Other than that, it was the same stoic fellow that went around town giving orders and went home to stone cold, microwave induced meals.

"I'm not one to get rid of a decent lay," she said, her eyes were devious as she left the vanity to put her robe on, shielding him from her lacy bra and panty set.

He scoffed and moved closer to her, "Decent is all I get? I think your reaction says different," Alex attempted to wrap his arms around her waist but she shook him away, moving to the other side of the room. This was the part he hated most about their encounters.

"You think whatever you want to, Sheriff. Just don't flatter yourself too much," she went on making her bed and focusing on the way the sheets were folded into the mattress.

He looked down to check the time on his phone, "I gotta get going. Paperwork and stuff," he stuffed the device into his pocket and reached down to grab his keys, they fell to the floor due to the eagerness they both sprung onto one another.

"Okay. I guess I'll see you around or something?" she asked, knowing that they would likely be in this very same spot within the next couple of days.

He slowly paced over to her and grabbed at her arm gently, "You know you'll be seeing me. You wouldn't be able to last one whole day without all of this," he joked while tracing his fingers down the silk of her robe. Without even thinking about it, he leaned in to kiss her but she just turned her lips far from him. He could feel his heart sinking.

"Alex," she whined, tearing her eyes away from the bed sheets to finally look at him, "We've been over this before. No kissing. Right?"

He tore away from her with an eye roll of his own, "Yeah, yeah, Norma. I'd hate to break your rules. I'll stick to fucking you from behind and trying my hardest not to look at you while you're riding me."

The last thing she heard was the bedroom door slam behind him as she fell to the bed. Her tears went unheard as he left to go back to the mundane lifestyle that he was unfortunately accustomed to.

As he drove back to the station, Alex was deep in thoughts he didn't want to delve into. But it happened. It always happened after he saw Norma. She was an enigma to him. And no matter what she did to him, he always seemed to take her back. They weren't even dating...well, not anymore. He would never be able to link himself to a woman that caused him such wrenching heartache. He knew he didn't deserve that.

But he put himself out there to still be vulnerable to her charms and power. As much as he wanted to say he wasn't, he was. He was so completely and entirely in love with the woman who ruined their future. All of the things they could have had were flushed down the toilet and Alex should have accepted it and moved on. Maybe taken up with the accounted who always praised him for the size of his dick. Or maybe attempted conversation with the barista that always severed him his morning coffee, she had a pretty smile after all. But no woman would ever entice him like Norma. She was everything. A grown up who still had all of the magic of a little girl on Christmas morning.

The arrangement they had should have been simple but he was finding it harder and harder to stick to. All he wanted was to slide a ring on her finger and stand with her at the altar. But much like everything else in his life, this was no fairy tale. It was a broken road filled with heartache and the consistent yearning for something that would never be. She fucked up and now he had a hole in his heart that could only be filled by her company. Never once did he think the thing that reminded him of pain could also feel like home. But that's how love is, right?

Norman. Norman. Norman. Norman. Norman. Norman. Alex? Norman. Norman. Norman. Norman. Clean Room 5. Norman. Norman. Norman. Norman. Norman. If I stuck with what was, where would I be right now? Alex. Alex? Norman. Norman. Past. Future. Norman.

And so on.

These were the thoughts that trickled through Norma's head on a rainy Wednesday afternoon when the house was spotless, she had already eaten, she couldn't nap, and her encounter with Alex was over. Her son was not there. He was gone. She didn't take pleasure in watching Funny Girl anymore. And her hair had grown longer from depression. She was skinnier because the only thing that would hold in her stomach was PB & J, apples, and the occasional side helping of green beans.

She remembered when the trouble initially happened and she was destroyed. They put her on suicide watch because the only thing she could think of was blowing her brains out to the tune of a Patience and Prudence song that she sang ages ago.

She remembered how Alex would pace up the large amount of concrete to be at her side. He would cut up green beans and put them on a plate for her. He would bring her afternoon tea that she would barely sip, she would fight for a scorching glass of scotch instead. He'd play Breakfast at Tiffany's every night for her because Hepburn made her happy. His hand would always caress her back while she tipped sideways on the couch, staring at the wall thinking of what it would be like to die.

She remembered all of the black surrounding her on the day of passing. She remembered the feeling of the doctors hands creeping inside of her to subtract. She remembered the sound of glass hitting the wall. She remembered how angry he was. She remembered how he said he never wanted to see her again. She remembered the blood dripping on the bathroom floor. She remembered being admitted and staring at the orange hospital bracelet day in and day out. She remembered the flowers and the man who sat by her bedside every night.

She remembered. She remembered. She remembered. She remembered.

And that was the problem. She couldn't not remember. Every piece of suffering and pain was on loop in her mind like a VHS tape being replayed over and over. She felt like a locked door. She was trying to let Alex in but never really letting him in. She was trying to contact her one son but could never force herself to feign interest despite how much she loved him. Sadness will do that to you.

To her, the world was concrete. There was no color anymore. Then again, the hard part was over, right? The doctors no longer kept a 24 hour watch on her. She didn't live in a hospital. She didn't rely on anyone for hope. She washes her hair and goes into town and buys groceries and cooks and sometimes sings and fucks. That makes everything okay, right? Life was supposed to be monotonous, right?

Right?