The nectar of the stakeout.

It was supposed to be a three-hour stakeout.
It turned into three days.

No shower.
No shave.
No apologies.

And all the while your subject lies dead in a room across the courtyard.

Coffee.

Black.

No sugar.

Because life is complicated enough.
Because sugarcoating never helped anything.

Coffee.

Because some days it's the only warmth left in the room.

—Don