Analysis Of The Poem Nine Days Later
Nine days later Gray, nimbostratus clouds blanketed the L.A. skyline, the promise
of rain becoming more of a threat with each passing hour. However, the bleak,
November day suited Tom s pensive mood, the impending storm mirroring the
tumultuous thoughts brewing within his mind. After countless cups of coffee and
only three hours sleep, he was on edge, caught in a web of his own making. He
wandered in aimless circles around the living room floor, his pinched face showing
clear signs of agitation, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest. For the tenth time in
less than five minutes, he glanced at the clock, unsure if he wanted his visitor to
arrive or not. But despite his apprehension, he knew he needed to face his demons,
and a gloomy... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
Hey, Coach, thanks for coming. The hard lines trenching Fuller s brow softened,
erasing years from his face. It s good to see you, Hanson, he murmured, his gaze
taking in Tom s appearance. You look... better. Embarrassed, Tom ducked his head,
the memories of their last meeting filling his mind. Teetering on the edge of a
breakdown, he d refused to reveal what had occurred at the Pi Tau hazing, and his
reluctance to talk had been a pivotal moment in their relationship. From then on, he
d avoided contact, preferring to relinquish his gun to Penhall rather than to the man
who had an uncanny ability to read his thoughts. But all that was in the past. The
time had come to face the captain who had helped mold him into the outstanding
police officer he had once been. Fuller s guidance had been invaluable, and
although awkward, Tom knew he owed his friend the apology he deserved. After
closing the door, Tom motioned Fuller to the couch. Once seated, he cleared his
throat in readiness before speaking in a voice trembling with regret. Cap n, I just
want you to know I never meant Take a seat, Hanson. The command caught Tom off
guard, and he instinctively obeyed his superior without questioning his demand.
Moving over to the nearest chair, he sat down, his posture stiff and formal. Unsure
how to behave, his hands twisted in his lap, his nervous disposition sending ripples of
tension