Next Morning -Blink

The morning sun streamed through the kitchen windows.

Amelia stood at the stove, her hands trembling slightly as she flipped pancakes. She wore a modest, knee-length sundress today, desperately hoping to keep the peace. At the dining table, Marcus sat like a looming thundercloud. His shift didn't start until 2:00 PM, but he had been awake since dawn.

Liam practically inhaled his breakfast. "Alright, I gotta go." he mumbled, grabbing his backpack. "See ya, Mom. Bye, Dad."

"Stay alert out there, boy," Marcus grunted glancing at the wall clock.

The moment the front door clicked shut behind Liam, the house fell into silence. It lasted exactly twelve minutes.

At 9:55 AM, the doorbell chimed.

Marcus stood up slowly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Stay in the kitchen," he ordered, his voice low and strict.

He marched down the hallway and ripped the front door open, his massive frame completely filling the doorway.

Samuel stood there, dressed in a humble plaid shirt and casual trouser, holding his hands up innocently. But before Marcus could even open his mouth to bark a threat, Samuel reached out, his palm open.

Resting in the center of his weathered hand was the heavy silver St. Michael medallion.

"Officer Valente?" Samuel asked, his voice respectful and mild. "I'm Samuel Von Eldorado, from across the street. I found this sitting right by the rear tire of your cruiser this morning. Must have slipped out of your pocket when you got home last night."

Marcus blinked, the fury in his chest hitting a sudden, unexpected brick wall. He instinctively patted his uniform pocket. Empty.

"I know a cop never wants to lose his patron saint," Samuel continued smoothly, offering the coin.
"You know about this?"
"My late brother wore the exact same one. God rest his soul."

Marcus's jaw tightened as he took the medallion. "Your brother was a cop?" he asked, his tone dialing back just a fraction.

"Thirty years. Patrolman out in Chicago. He was killed in the line of duty." Samuel lied flawlessly, his eyes perfectly solemn. It was a ghost story, but one that commanded instant blue-line respect. "I did twenty years myself as a Police Fleet Mechanic down in Texas before my arthritis got too bad and I retired up here. That's actually why I came over. Actually, I really wanted to meet you. Well, that, and I got a text from your lovely wife about helping with some unpacking. And since I have nothing better to do all day, I thought, why not."

Marcus’s eyes instantly hardened again, his broad shoulders squaring up. "Right.. nice to meet you too Samuel." His tone did a little shift to being more polite, just like Samuel wanted "Actually, Amelia and I were talking yesterday and she told me about how she met you. And I don't wanna sound rude but, want to explain to me why you're texting my wife at midnight? Calling her an angel and telling her you're jealous of me?"

Amelia peeked around the kitchen archway, her heart in her throat.

Samuel let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck like a foolish old grandpa. "Look, Marcus... I'm going to shoot straight with you. I'm a lonely, widowed old man from a different generation. I saw a kind beautiful girl yesterday, and I threw out a handful of harmless compliments. I figured every girl likes to hear she looks nice. I apologize if I gave the wrong impression."

Marcus crossed his massive arms, scanning Samuel’s face, actively looking for the lie. "You think it's appropriate to talk to another man's wife like that?"

"As I said, I meant that as a harmless compliment nothing else," Samuel said looking Marcus right in the eye "And I apologize, man-to-man, If my words offended anybody. You have my word, I’ll never speak to her that way again."

Marcus’s chest puffed out a little. Samuel had played him perfectly, stroking his massive ego. The cop felt a sudden wave of validation. He had successfully intimidated this guy without even throwing a punch.

"Thanks for understanding man," Marcus smiled, his voice deep but no longer threatening. "Also, I'd appreciate it if you don't come knocking around here when I'm at work. She's a bit shy, and I don't want her feeling overwhelmed while I'm out on patrol.""

"I know man, how do you think I managed my wife all these years she was alive," Samuel chuckled along with Marcus. "I definitely won't overwhelm her."

As Samuel said the words, he shifted his weight slightly, looking past Marcus’s massive shoulder directly at Amelia, who was still peeking out from the kitchen.

While Marcus looked down to slip the medallion safely into his pocket, Samuel locked eyes with Amelia. A slow smirk spread across the old man's face as he gave her a quick wink.

Amelia’s breath hitched, a sudden, unexplainable, hot flush pooling in her chest.

Marcus looked back up, completely oblivious.

"You're a good man, Samuel." Marcus grunted, his posture finally relaxing. "Say, I'll leave for my shift around 1 in the afternoon, why don't you come inside. I would love to chat with you sometime."

"Sorry about that Marcus, but I've already promised one of my old friend to go fishing today," Samuel smiled, gesturing vaguely toward his own porch across the street, where two expensive fishing rods were leaning against the railing. "There's a private, quiet spot a few miles out of town. Perfect for unwinding after a long shift. If you ever need a break from the grind, let me know."

Marcus, who had absolutely zero friends in this new town and carried the heavy stress of a new precinct, actually found himself nodding. "Yeah. Maybe I'll take you up on that soon."

"Outstanding," Samuel said, tipping his hat. "Oh, and Marcus... one last favor to ask. Since my wife passed, her beautiful greenhouse garden out back is getting completely overgrown. My arthritis is just too bad to tend it. I know Amelia mentioned she loves gardening. If it’s alright with you, I’d love for her to come over sometime and pick whatever fresh vegetables she wants. It's a shame to let it all rot."

"I'll let her know," Marcus agreed, offering a firm nod. "Have a good morning, Samuel." He now fully trusted the retired police mechanic

"You too, Officer."

Marcus closed the heavy front door and let out a long sigh. The fiercely paranoid cop felt a twinge of genuine guilt. He had completely misjudged the situation. He had been ready to beat an innocent, grieving, pro-police widower to **** over a simple misunderstanding.

He turned around and trudged back toward the kitchen.

Amelia was standing by the counter, her arms crossed beautifully under her heavy breasts, her plump lips pushed out in an adorable, victorious pout.

"See?" she chimed, her voice dripping with sweet, clueless innocence as she looked at her embarrassed husband. "I told you so, Marcus. He's just a sweet old man."