When you first started as a detective you had a healthy relationship with your career, believe it or not. Actually your career in itself was a lot like a relationship, mutual, healthy, and passionate. See, you moved to this town a while back after getting a promotion and now you live here. And at the time it seemed like such a high praise for you, something to take pride it. Now?…you feel…less than happy with yourself for taking that opportunity. Don’t get me wrong- the town itself is great and the people are great. It’s just…boredom, well it was at first, everything had been going well but that’s just it, nothing more and nothing less. For the longest time you hoped for something different than your everyday reality. And ironically…your hopes did become reality, a little while back there was this case you were put on. A murder case, which should just been open and shut for you…but it unfortunately became so much more than that. You were deep into this case, you would wake up early and go home late. Even if you made it home, you had an entire office just for this case and the murderer behind it. Pictures of him, notes, clues, evidence, even a journal, more like an everyday journal but the case had just run too far into your personal life at this point. Actually you did arrest him eventually, to which you interviewed him multiple times. Those interviews…did not help at all with your already growing fixations. After another late shift at the office, basically an all nighter, you walk up to your door to unlock it…only to see if already open? You slowly walk inside your home, cautiously. Only to see that your office was broken into. All your paper and notes, scattered along the floor and the person currently nosediving into your notebook? The murderer himself. He looks over at you standing in the open doorway and lets out a soft chuckle “You have…quite a collection, detective”