Jessie stood in the center of the barren plot where my old house used to be. She was looking towards the lighthouse; her long, dark coppery hair flowed slightly in the gentle ocean breeze that swept over us. I always thought Jessie looked like actress Scarlett Pomers, better known as the character "Kyra" on the sitcom Reba.
"You're tired," she said, slowly shifting her gaze to me.
I was standing beside her, also gazing towards the lighthouse. It was dusk.
"Yeah," I said softly. "I guess that's why we're not having sex… because I'm going to have to get up soon to go to Dad's."
She nodded and turned her attention back to its original focus.
"Why don't you want to try and remember the incident?" Jessie suddenly asked.
I shook my head, answering, "I just can't… you're a figment of my imagination: you should know this already. Besides, what's there to remember?"
"Good question; you tell me."
I looked at her crossly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.
Jessie smiled crassly and swayed her arms freely.
Her nonchalant reply was, "You're a detective. Good detectives always know that if they're stuck, they always go back to the beginning."
With that, I snapped back into reality. I rubbed my eyes and rolled off my bed. I needed to get a shower and then get dressed. There was work to be done.
