As long as he was working he didn't have to acknowledge that his flat held nothing but a potted plant that he sometimes remembered to water before the leaves drooped like a Weeping Willow, and a television that he rarely turned on.
He studied the day's reports, petty crimes mostly. The flasher had struck again. Unfortunately most of the elderly women he chose to expose himself to could give very detailed descriptions of the organ in question, but never seemed to look up the see the man's face.
He pictured a line up of just that particular bit of a man's anatomy and wondered if anyone had asked whether or not the offender had been circumcised? Flipping through the case file he discovered that the particular question had never been addressed. He needed to pass the directive on to Vice to be sure to ask next time.
Removing his glasses he rubbed his eyes. When you spent over twenty minutes looking for whether a perp was cut or not, it was probably time to pack it in.
Rising he gathered up some papers, grabbed his laptop and carrying case and packed up for the night. Glancing at the clock he noted that it was half-past eleven and that meant dinner would either be take away from the greasy fast food places that lined the high street or something purchased from a petrol station.
Neither sounded particularly appealing, and he wondered if he had anything other than cold cereal in his flat and a few, possibly stale, biscuits?
Flipping a mental coin, he decided he wasn't terribly hungry anyway. Home, a cup of tea, and a hot bath before bed was what he really needed.
Turning off his office light he hoped to not run into anyone on his way out and have to make small talk when all he really wanted was to be shed of this place for the night.
"We should have him for dinner," Natalie announced as they got ready for bed.
"Too skinny," Peter replied slipping the worn Ramones tshirt that he liked to sleep in over his head, "we wouldn't get much meat off of him."
"OK, Hannibal Lecter," she smacked him playfully with a pillow, "you know what I mean! We should have Hardy over for dinner. Maybe if he gets to know you outside of the work environment he'd see you're a good person."
"Oh?" Peter smiled at her, "I am?"
"Of course you are," she protested, then realising he was teasing her, she returned the smile, "although it's also nice to know you can be naughty, too."
Sliding into bed, and holding the sheet up for her Peter pulled her in tight, "when I'm good I'm very, very good," he whispered in her ear, "but when I'm bad, I'm better."
Natalie snuggled in next to him, hoping that his good mood meant some intimacy would be forthcoming. He had been so distracted, almost aloof, since Hardy's welcome dinner, and she was glad that he finally seemed to be snapping out of it.
She pressed her chest against his, and ran her fingers down his back the way he liked, and moved in to give him a passionate kiss, but he pulled away from her.
He flipped back over onto his back, folding his hands across his chest he asked, "what would someone like that eat?"
Natalie had a hard time switching her brain from the encounter she hoped to have, to domestic thoughts, "I don't know, I'm sure he has to eat sometime?"
"He is awfully thin," Peter mused, "maybe he's anorexic?"
"You said he had some medical issues," Natalie prompted, "perhaps he's still recovering from that?"
"I know he doesn't like doughnuts," Peter replied staring up at the ceiling.
"Good," Natalie laughed, "I won't make those for dinner."
"I'll have to find out," Peter continued, as if she hadn't spoken, "really tick all his boxes, and maybe he'd lighten up on me!"
With that he turned over on his side, his back to her and turned out the light.
Natalie fumed silently. Not only did he not make love to her, she didn't even get a goodnight kiss!
Picturing clobbering Peter over the head with one of her slippers, she instead extinguished her light and lay in the darkness wondering what she needed to do to rekindle some of the romance back into their relationship.