When I was a child, they kicked my mother's vegetable basket, claiming she could not sell them there. When I grew up, I saw them break my sister's leg because of the same reason. However, they were the ones who took away all my mother's vegetables and they were also the ones who broke into my sister's room and bullied her.
In the stifling police station, he kept flipping through my files with his saliva-wetted thumb.
"Do you know this whore?" he asked.
"No."
"It's a shame though. She was only twenty-three years old."
"Don't we have to wait for the forensic report?"
"Are you fucking stupid? It's obvious she jumped from the building. Do you know how many people die on Creak Street every day? Do I have to investigate every single one of them?"
As he listened to his captain's scolding, the young officer lowered his head. He did not dare to refute his superior.
"Case closed! I don't want to hear anything about it again."
The fat officer stubbed out his cigarette and left the young man alone in the police station.
Before he went home, he headed to the market to buy pork and vegetables. He planned to make meatballs and then eat them with his son.
He was so funny!
"Zara Weston."