Charlene slammed the phone down hard. Her heart almost frozen by the officerâ€™s words were cold, and mixed with harshness all at the same time.  The world around her reminded her of him. The paint easel , and the pictures in frames that were littered across the plain white walls like a dull reminder of a man she loved? Could she use that word honestly? Fact was she loved him. Had he ever loved her? Truly in her heart she felt the answer was yes. Then why had he died? Tear stung to her face, and she had shove her body up-trying to stay steady on her feet when gravity itself seemed to push against her.<br/><br/>At last her feet steadied but her hands were still shaking, and her head was pounding. She managed to make herself a cup of black coffee to try and calm her nerves but that felt like she was fighting through a brick wall. After five minutes she managed to shakily poor herself a cup, and without hesitation she doused the burning hot cup of black bile.  Barely noticing the burn as it sifted down her throat. She slammed the cup down one elbow resting on the wooden counter while her hand held her head.<br/><br/>The room seemed even more empty than usual, and there was no way she would make it to her modeling appointment. At least not in this condition. She wanted so hard to call the person and take the day off but her heart could barely allow her even that. After about 20 minutes her tears were no longer, and her eyes were stained red by the amount of tears she shed.<br/><br/>She moved from the kitchen to her empty living room. Well empty in the sense that its true owner was no longer residing there. The black love seat almost welcomed her, and she carefully made her way over there. Laying down on the comfortable couch that reminded her of him, because it smelt the ax perfume he always wore. She reached over the coffee table and grabbed the phone book. Searching through till she found the perfect private investigatorâ€™s number. Aubrey something or other. She laughed that the name didnâ€™t carry a last name. The laugh was more of a painful, humorous laugh rather than a truly happy one.<br/><br/>Within seconds she dialed the number, and rung, and rung, then rung once more. Without waiting even a second for the investigator to ask who this is she made her harsh introduction. "Hello I am Charlene comptum calling because I need a private investigator." She paused for just a moment the pain deep in her throat of her loss. " My roo----lover passed away yesterday or today or something like that. I do not knowâ€¦and I was just notified that I need an investigator. Could you help me?" She breathed in a deep sigh and her extra hand ran through her long luscious brown hair. She waited for the investigatorâ€™s response with her breath straight in her heart.