Close to the Captain's office, there's a desk baring the name plate: Det. Jack Harper.  It's covered in papers, several stacks of them.  There's a lamp above the nameplate and a closed black IBM laptop off to one side.  A potatohead wearing stormtrooper gear, Spudtrooper, stands guard inbetween the nameplate and the lamp, and a silly putty sculpture sits on top of his helmet.  Next to the computer is a NYPD coffee mug with various pens and pencils.  There is a desk phone with a red light flashing, indicating messages waiting to be listened to.

(OOC: I thought that this would be a nice place for people to leave notes or phone messages and stuff, especially if people aren't on aim, you can do it here.  Anyone else is welcome to put up a description of their desk, please link it somewhere in your journal or make it appear on top if you do so we can find it.  Thanks :D)

My brother David gave me a ride home from the hospital yesterday.  I'm glad to be home...I can't stand hospitals.  But um..I guess I'll be out of work for a little while, which is more of David's orders than mine.  Anyway, I'm out, and I'll live and all that.  

Hey Mike and Millie, congradulations.  I do want to meet Isa soon.

The evergrowing mountain of paperwork on my desk is...still there.  I still think that it grows overnight.  It even grows when Munch isn't around.  Which is amazing.  I think that papers just sort of...materialize.  Or they reproduce.  On my desk.  Which is highly disturbing.

But this is a good game: http://www.lilgames.com/cubefield.shtml

Also, I am going to kick my brother's ass at Unreal Tournament this weekend.  

He had left early, gone a few places.  No matter how much he tried, this day always remained the same.  Twenty-two years to the day and it was still there.  He couldn't let go, no matter how hard he tried.  Same fear, same pain.  Same words.  Same determination.  

Twenty-two years that it had gone on, still left in the background while so many other things were focused on.  But why after twenty-two years of nothing, would it still be on top?  For him, it was.  And it would continue to stay, burned into the back of his head from hours of staring at it.

And he sat in the quiet SVU squadroom, the old file on his desk.  Nothing new.  A part of Jack doubted that there ever would be anything new on it.  Another part made sure that he would never stop looking.  It was his obsession.  It always had been.  While it wasn't entirely the reason he became a cop...it would remain a file that he would dig up over, and over again all throughout his career.  

Jack sighed, leaning forward on his desk and took off his glasses, lightly tossing them down on the manilla folder.  He rubbed his face tiredly.  It was late.  There was almost no one here.  He had come back after everyone else left - he wanted to be alone, at least for a little while.  Jack rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes.  His desk lamp was the only one on.