Given the cold in the interrogation room, I’d have gladly traded the little black dress for a big wool blanket. I resorted to rubbing my arms, a poor remedy for shivering that did nothing for shaking.
My Not-So-Happy New Year. Walking home after midnight. These two, ah, men? appearing. Tossed into a black van. Dumped into a detective noir scene right out of Hollywood. Did these rooms really look like this? Stark, dark, and another –ark word I couldn’t summon. Hard to think when stressed.
They were rude, but at least they hadn’t roughed me up. Roughed up? Never thought I’d use that expression in reference to myself. I wasn’t in handcuffs, but the table was bolted to a floor sporting dust bunnies in the corners. The decor suffered from a lack of everything…
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