Instructions: Listen to the audio while reading.

Pay attention because nothing is as it seems

Best wishes 😈

"...None of you will ever look at that restaurant the same way again."

Silence.

Long.

Heavy.

Allen exchanged a glance with Monroe.

Even Sal didn't interrupt this time.

Allen spoke softly.

"Then tell us what happened after that."

Rogers nodded.

"I carried him. My wife helped me. We buried him two days later. Our neighbours came. Our family cried."

"They all said time would heal us."

He laughed quietly. "They lied."

Monroe shifted in his chair.

"What happened after the funeral?"

Rogers rubbed his cuffed wrists.

His eyes were closed. His cuffs were no longer on him. The men's faces blurred. His mind drifted away from the scene. 

In his head, his reality wasn't the present.

"I stopped sleeping."

"I stopped eating."

"I stopped caring."

"I'd sit outside the restaurant for hours..."

"...waiting for my son to walk through the gate."

"He never did."

"My wife tried to comfort me. But grief..."

He looked up.

"...changes people."

Allen wrote every word.

Sal watched him carefully.

Something about the old man's story refused to settle in his mind.

Monroe finally spoke. "You said Tom was bitten by a snake."

"Yes."

"What kind?"

Rogers blinked.

"I don't know."

"You didn't see it?"

"No."

Monroe frowned.

"You said there was blood."

"So much blood."

"Snake bites don't usually leave that much blood."

The room fell silent.

Allen slowly looked up.

Sal turned toward Monroe.

Rogers smiled.

"You're observant."

Monroe didn't smile back.

"So..."

"Where did all the blood come from?"

Rogers stared at him.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Then he quietly chuckled.

"I suppose..."

"...grief changes what we remember."

He refused to say another word.

Monroe's eyes narrowed.

Allen underlined something in his notebook.

Sal leaned back in his chair.

For the first time…

He wasn't sure the old man was telling the truth.

And somewhere in the corner of the room, Rogers smiled at someone only he could see.

He mouthed, "Don't worry Tom, I haven't told them…"

They didn't notice.

Outside the interrogation room, a trolley rolled past.

It’s squeaky wheels echoed faintly down the hallway.

Inside…

Nothing but silence.

After what felt like an eternity, Allen spoke up, “carry on Mr Rogers.”

"...My wife changed after that."

"She stopped singing."

"She stopped smiling."

"Our house..."

"...became quiet."

"So very quiet."

"The restaurant stayed closed."

"For weeks."

"Our farm stopped producing."

"The bills kept coming."

"Our savings disappeared."

"My wife cried every night."

"I stopped sleeping."

He paused.

Then, almost absent-mindedly...

He looked toward the empty corner of the room.

The same corner.

The same gentle smile.

He nodded ever so slightly.

Allen noticed.

His pen stopped moving.

"Mr. Rogers..."

The old man blinked.

"Yes?"

"Who are you looking at?"

Rogers frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"You've looked over there several times."

Allen pointed toward the empty corner.

"There."

Rogers followed his finger.

Then smiled.

"Oh..."

"I suppose old habits are hard to break."

No one understood what he meant.

Not even Monroe.

Sal narrowed his eyes.

"What happened after your son's funeral?"

Rogers drew in a long breath.

"We reopened the restaurant."

"It didn't feel right."

"But grief doesn't pay bills."

"So..."

"We went back to work."

"For a while..."

"...everything seemed normal."

He smiled.

"But normal..."

"...has a funny way of disappearing."

Sal leaned forward.

"What changed?"

Rogers looked up.

For the first time, there was something different in his eyes.

Not grief.

Not guilt.

Something colder.

"The first person to walk through that door..."

He paused.

"...wasn't there for the food."

No one spoke.

No one moved.

Rogers' smile widened.

"At least..."

"...not at first.”

He leaned back in his chair.

"And that's when everything changed.”

To Be Continued...