"Hey! Bob!"
I looked around. Jim, my partner, was calling to me from across the station.
"We got a case!" Jim was breathing fast, his face was flushed, and his pupils were dilating. I concluded that he was excited. He dropped a file on my desk.
"Why don't we get you out of this spartan cubby that they've put you in. An old lady was kidnapped from her home, but there aren't really any motives for any of the suspects."
The "cubby" that Jim was referring to was my office. The walls are painted a dull, matte, gray, and had a small metal table for my desk. I specifically requested this office, but Jim still doesn't understand that.
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