59-A week to get over it

I guess instead of playing around in the kitchen with Yoké and making scrambled eggs and tea, we should have been sitting around the coffee table and coming up with a proper story for me. Now I’d have to make up lies on the spot. What if I get caught?

My fingers were trembling so bad. I didn’t even have pockets where I could hide them, and I guess folding my arms would send a message that I was hiding something, being secretive. I don’t know how these cops think.

The two policemen sat together on the couch opposite me. One of them had a notebook and the other was just sitting there with his hand to his chin observing me. Dad was sitting next to me on the other couch.

“Miss Genesis,” The policeman with the notebook began. “I’m sherif Charle and this is sherif Davis. We’ll just ask you a few questions that might help us trace your kidnappers.”

Trace my kid

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