Storms and craters

Prologue

In this world, there left

Only harsh storms and craters,

And your heart, which is cracked

And cursed to die young as it patterned...

Ninety-two days.

Is it a lot or a little in order to stop at one of them and realize where he made the greatest mistake? And he wouldn't have to sit on the other side of the table now, over which the dim light of the interrogation room lamp flickers irritatingly. There is a familiar feeling of nausea due to the rotten air. It's strange, but once he perceived it as an integral entourage of his work.

A voice that constantly varies in a range of tones. Short and clear-cut questions.

They are pumping.

Hm.

I know these tricks of yours.

In fact, he finally had the opportunity to evaluate the process from the other side. The one he was never supposed to be on. And recalling all ninety-two days in his memory, he inevitably reduces the source and outcome of his main mistake to one single person.

What did he say then? No. He didn't say. Cheekily and confidently splashed out in the face: "Because right away and deep under the skin...".

But was it possible to avoid all the consequences? If we consider life as a set of choices in a set of circumstances?

The last question for today. At the end, he hears an ellipsis. So, there will be more tomorrow. And you're not that much of a pro. I have always got confession after one session of "therapy".

That's it. He is led away under the all-too-familiar "hands behind his back", "facing the wall". Too late. But he won't fall asleep soon. His dreams are saturated with painful anxiety, the same one that bleeds in his mind during the day. This is some kind of twisted version of his life. And it is already difficult to distinguish a dream from reality.

He is even glad that he will be alone until tomorrow. After all, being alone is his most usual state. There have been too many strange faces in my life in recent years. Some merged with each other or faded. Others have disappeared from memory without a trace.

Except for one thing.

Although, if you look at it, two… Or is it just one? What if we assume that all this is true? No, seriously... why would he lie now?

Sitting on the hard floor, feeling the cold hardness of the wall with his back, he scrolls everything and replays in his memory the very moments when it was still possible to turn back.

Or did he initially have no choice?

He closes his eyes, mentally returning to that fateful evening. And if he had known how it would turn out, he would have fucked up his professional duty, knowing in his heart that it was not about duty. Then completely different motives prevailed. But in order to unleash the whole spiral of fatal mistakes, he must analyze every miscalculation.

Therefore, he finds himself again in that very evening.

"Your coffee, Khun Vegas! Very black and very hot as you like!"

"Thank you, Tawan. But next time, don't put it on the report folder. Otherwise, you'll have to work out my damaged documents by running around for my coffee during the break for the rest of your career."

"Okay, boss! He's already been brought in. Are you coming?"

"Yeah. I'll be there in a couple of minutes."