Error. [H.S.]

7.

Grayscale clouds cried down on the New York pavement, puddling the frequent potholes and leaving tear stains behind on the taxi windshields. The dawn rain left behind a lingering scent so fragile and crisp, blending perfectly with the deep smell of brewed coffee grounds cupped in my gloves hands. Given the choice, I'd be curled up in bed, absentmindedly watching the raindrops race with one another across the windowpanes, and finding entertainment in watching the drops collide with each other, some getting faster while others slowed.

Instead, I was fetching coffee in the early morning rain for my new "boss". While my internship still technically fell under ESU, my previous added responsibilities within the precinct were put on hold until this case was closed, and replaced with one simple bullet point.

• Assist Harry Styles as requested.

My stomach ached upon signing away my agreement to that requirement, unsure of what that truly entailed. His labyrinth of emotions yesterday had no ending, the pathway to understanding him changing with every passing minute. Maybe that was intentional; all labyrinths hold to the moral meant to protect something hidden in it's core.

So what was he hiding?

While doubting that I'll never understand the method to his madness, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to travel with the team free of expenses, getting first had experience at the life of a journalist. New York was the place journalists go to sought out a career, it's just not my place. Almost every journalist that wanders into New York shares the same end goal of wanting to end up published in the New York Times or Cosmopolitan Magazine. To no discredit are those amazing opportunities, but they don't fit my style or fall within my passion.

I can picture it now. Brutal Louisiana Murder Leaves 2 Children Without Guardianship plastered right over the shoulder of a Kardashian. As if.

The first of what I'm sure will be many demands pinged my phone while I was sorting through my wardrobe for a weather appropriate outfit only forty-five minutes ago.

Unknown Number: Don't bother showing up unless you've got coffee.

Unknown Number: Black, three sugar packets on the side.

Of course he would drink black coffee, it's the edgy thing to do these days. A splash of cream might tear his rockstar imagine into shreds. How tragic.

A gust of relief strayed from my cold lips when I caught sight of my destination, putting a little pep in my step to get me out of the rain faster. Festive lights outlined the rooftop with a decorative glisten, and snowflakes and snowmen were expertly painted on the inside of the large windows. I couldn't help but sneak a giddy smile at the festivities, loving this time of year more than the rest.

I quickly drew in my black umbrella when sheltered near the entrance of the shop. A few quick shakes drained the lose droplets, but the exterior was still soaked. Much like everyone else, I propped my umbrella amongst the rest outside of the door.

My gloved fingers reached for the square handle, fighting the suction of the heater instead of the sanctuary, lively with a crowd who sought out caffeine to fuel their daily routine. A harsh tug finally released the tension, comforting heat flooding towards me.

"Here." A voice behind me muttered under their breath, large hand grabbing the door above my head for better leverage, aiding me in pulling it open.

"Thank you." I turn over my shoulder, gleaming a gracious smile to the bundled up stranger. Masked behind layers of jackets, a scarf, and a beanie, the stranger behind me was dressed for the blizzard that the weatherman said may threaten the city this evening. "I thought I was going to lose an arm." A nod from the stranger ended our contact, leaving me trudging over to the line of people waiting to engulf in caffeinated warmth.