Creative Writing: The Search

Part I of Essay
I used to work for the F.B.I., in the Portland office. It was my childhood dream to be the one who gets the bad guy. My fiftieth birthday was in just three months. I had a wife and three children, still do, and the same job I'd had since my graduation from Quantico. We we ....

Part II of Essay
.... room. I picked the red one he wore in his graduation pictures and slipped it over my head. I stepped into the bathroom, combed back my whitening hair, and left for the office. The early morning sun shone in through the broken blinds that I noticed hadn't been replaced as I asked. I looked over the pile of paperwork awaiting me. “Why the hell do I gotta do all these damn reports?” "Actually, you don't, not today." I turned to see a man much like myself, but older and with his piece on. He was a little taller, but with the same ....