Realistic+Fiction

I was there, waiting, at the table, and sitting. At one point you get the feeling of the middle of your cheekbones falling down, your eyes gazing on while your eyebrows sit relaxed and in the middle. The outside was dark, and at twilight, and rainy. I had to walk down the street to cope with it. I had a sensation of the side of my face defending myself against the vision of others across the street, walking the opposite direction of me. My heart began to sink, cove, and hurl into itself. I just learned that my friend got murdered 3 hours ago. The news was told to me only 2 hours after it happened. I was pale in the face. I approached a convenient store, and I decided to buy some food. When I got in there, the fluorescent light cast it's 'relief' upon everyone there, including me, and everyone was welcoming when I went to talk to them, it seemed. I continued on out of the store. Keep walking on, with the rain coming down slightly. I took my right at the closest turn. I continued on. There was a park to my left, and the trees above were wet and moisturized, but who did I care? Took another right. Went on down the road again. Took another right. Went back to my house.

The Private Detective called me, offering to give me a ride with a cop in his police car. I accepted.

I looked out the window. The houses were colorful under the dark grey sky overhead, spread out over the flat suburbs. "Hmmm..." I said, taking my eyes to the inside of the car, and at the cop. We arrived at the scene. Red and white street lights reflected off of the shiny black pavement of the parking lot. There was flashing of light, some commotion, and yellow tape. I pulled the handle, pushed it out, and closed it with a satisfying crack when the car door hit the rest of the body. We started walking together towards the scene. The investigators were giving me strange looks. One looked like he was Indian, he had brown skin, and was the type of guy that looked good in a dark blue uniform. It looked like it just suited him. He had a great white in his eyes. The door was opened already, and we went inside. It wasn't that chaotic. The cop took me to the hall, the Detective following behind.

He had been stabbed several times in the chest, and had a slit throat. It saddened me. I wanted to cry. I looked away.

"How much of it do you want to hear?"

"As much as you want to tell me."

"He was a serial killer. We've seen this before. He does the same thing to whoever he kills. You know, that kinda stuff that seems to happen a lot. He slits their throat, and then when he has the chance he stabs them repeatedly after their dead. He likes doing it a lot, and can't help himself, it seems."

"I see."

I walked out of the house with the two investigators. His name was Ryan.

I gave a sigh. I turned my head down the road and still at the crime scene. Still a lot of commotion. I looked at the sky overhead, which had some dark grey clouds mixing in with the lighter ones, and some black clouds too. A lot of those. I walked over to the car and was driven home again. I looked around my house, for no reason, and put my hand on my eyes. I took one last look at the doorway and went to bed.