LXII
The icy wind blew through Detective Rocha's coat, but she didn't care. It didn't stun her at all that his bones tremble involuntarily, and her mouth spewed halos of sadness. She was walking back to that apartment where she had been welcomed as a daughter who had just returned, after many years of not visiting the family. It's been a long time since Alex Rocha felt so loved by someone. It has been too long since she felt the warmth of a mother. Mother... was what she had read superficially in those diaries. The word "mother" was repeated several times in the course of the long reading. That ramshackle journal was not completely full, but the one she kept above, and glanced at, seemed to contain more than a slight sketch of Derick Peck's life. The humidity of that hut had do
- Writer
