“You are a beautiful woman. You are a beautiful woman”, she said to herself in the mirror as she took a sip of her morning coffee. “You are a beautiful mess”, she concluded after she had to change her shirt because she had spilled the coffee on her.

She was running late for work already. She was always running late and she had to thank her clumsy, often all over the place, self. She managed to forget her keys at least once a week and had to call a locksmith, a big, friendly Polish guy that answered to the name Ivan that started giving her a discount after their fourth encounter. This week, she had also forgotten her files on Wednesday, and her gun on Thursday. Being a private investigator without a gun was as bad as being an accountant without a calculator, a boxer without gloves,...

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