It was another uneventful day in Doma City. Uneventful days weren't rare for me, Darren Black, PI. Ever since the guard had started shaping up there'd been less business. And the takeover wasn't exactly helpful. Me, I was just thankful the office survived.
The office. This single, shabby room above a fishmonger's stretched the word's definition to its limits. My desk had one leg shorter than the others - books I never even read propped it up. The wallpaper wass peeling, and what little that remained was stained with tobacco. The state of the floor... don't get me started on the state of the floor. There was a broken mirror - I looked into it, then, and was surprised to see who stared back. I never considered myself particularly handsome, but my haggard looks, unshaven face, and unkempt hair, once brown but now greying, were a shock even to me. I don't know when I stopped caring about the way I looked. Probably when I stopped caring about my job. There had been a time when I thought it was glamorous. I wish I'd never been so naieve.
In times past I had cases up to my elbows - jealous husbands and suspicious wives mainly, but there had been a few big ones. My last big case had been four years ago, though, and I'd blown it. How? I made it personal.
And now nothing was left but enough spouses going astray to keep me in house and home. I sat behind my desk, as I had done for a while now, waiting for my next big break.