On the desk lays a surprisingly small folder, attached to the front is a picture of a grim-looking young woman holding up a card with her inmate number. Her fingers and parts of her cheek are coloured in red, maybe blood, maybe ink, who knows. The investigator flicks the file open, once he’s seated. He’s surprised by the amount of censored information and the notes the previous, now dead, investigator left. Surprised, since the suspect was a high-ranking officer and t

A helpless whimper seeped through the person’s plump heart shaped lips. The person hurriedly went back under the safety of the awning and then continued to gaze helplessly out into the endless haze that was the rain. .