Catching Roses

Chapter 1- Jessica Holister's POV

  Streets.  Crowds of people wasting their lives playing on their phones, grabbing useless things knowing they may never have the chance to grab it again.
  Cabbie nearby had an affair recently and was "dropping them off home after a doctors apointment" based off a phone call, but the wife knows and doesn't wanna deal with it.
  A female nearby was crying, tensed on the bench.  I've seen that look in before she has now- I've even worn it.  PTSD flashbacks.  Based off her stance, she recently got home from another pointless war.  Bag definatley said soldier.
   My therapy can wait.
  I went over to her and sat down.  Her jeans were a modern, edgy, torn look and it was a button-up tshirt.  Late 20's.  
   "You arent in a war zone, it's America, state of Tennessee, city of Memphis, the is date is January thirtieth, twenty-seventeen.  A man across the street is conplaining to his wife how he got fired for supposedly stealing things, when he actually was, and the woman walking by is going to see her father after 5 months.  You're home, and shouldn't have to fire a gun.  You're home.  Or, at least, nearby."
   Not working.  She was still back in her warzone.
  "There's a child nearby playing with a dog- Husky who just got into adulthood.  The child is wearing a pastelle pink dress, and has her hair curled- it was done this morning.  The mom is talking to a man- the father of the child.  I assume the dog is theirs, seeing how the parent's aren't stopping her.  It seems to be a happy family- probably starting out.  The mother is probably about to tell the father she's pregnant- wait, no, she just did. He's exited."
  As I spoke she seemed to calm down, and was now sniffling, wiping her tears away.  The african american female sighed, and looked at me.  Green eyes- now back into reality.
  "How'd you know what happened with me and those people?" She asked.
  "Well, with you, I've seen what a PTSD flashback looks like.  And your build and stance- you were a lutenant back in, where I can't tell- Iraq? With the man conplaining, I pinpointed what he was talking about and reading his lips and he was fidgeting with a pearl necklace in his pocket.  Men usually dont carry pearl neclaces, so it was most likely stolen. The woman walking by was exited- and had the childish look said father. The family?  Rings and I reading lips and facial expressions.  I assume you need therapy, and I know a good therapist and I'm going there now.  Wish to come?"
  She gave me a dumbfounded look.  "Why'd you need a therapist?"
  "Long story.  Part of it is I'm an FBI agent.  Tell me your name and I'll get you an apointment." I replied.
    She gave me a sigh.  "Joanna Williams.  Yours?"
  "Jessica Holister.  Nice meeting you."
  We shook hands and then I walked her to the therapy session.