@truthate
“excuse me...”
the woman stands in front of the desk, hands clasped in front of her, barely held back from fidgeting nervously. there’s a heaviness in her violet eyes and thin shoulders, and even if she could see beyond the brim of saihara’s hat, she would not be making eye contact with them.
she hasn’t come here for them, but she’ll take what she can get. as of right now she doesn’t see this young detective in her future, but that could change. she doesn’t know everything, after all.
“i need to... track somebody down, and i was recommended to come here. may i speak with... whoever’s in charge?”
it’s a cliche, in the mystery genre; a pretty lady walks into the office, shadowed by the ghosts of her past, and with her, she brings endless amounts of trouble. this story has played out time and time again within detective novels, and in reality, akane feels herself splintered similarly. it’s like being in a funhouse at a carnival, images of herself reflected back, but all skewed somehow, foreign and unfamiliar.
she holds the photograph in her cold hands. from where they’re sitting, saihara won’t be able to make out the image of a young girl and a boy sitting together on a hill, smiling happily.
