One Apple A Day #134
Three hours. I’ve been here three hours freezing and staring at that painting. I think I now know every detail of that girl with the pearl earrings. I don’t even like it. And she doesn’t like me too. She never even glimpsed at me. Instead, she keeps staring to that manhole on the pavement like she’s expecting for her lover to come out of that hole any moment.
I would like to force all the people that get excited when I told them I’m a PI, to sit here at my place. Waiting on this frosty morning for my target to show herself. Lucky for me, this place is a well-known spot for nomad workers, so no one is giving more than a distracted look at this average guy, in normal clothes tapping on a black laptop in front of him and drinking coffee. I may not have the typical look of a PI, like the ones on TV, but I blend in very well. Probably too well considering that some times even my clients don’t recognise me.
The girl is still staring at the manhole. My target is still nowhere to be seen.