Strange Beings

.Mugs and Holes.

I called Harry, tried to explain the situation to him without panicking. It was my job to stay cool-headed, after all. If I had freaked out, he would have lost it.

Well...more than he already was. Even with the volume of my phone way down, his shouts of the same panic I kept concealed were too loud to ignore.

I called the supposed Puke Frown number, and we decided to meet up at a station, where the detectives would meet with us, ask us questions, and ensue to fit squarely into their stereotype. Their coffee was blacker than the smoggy sky, and with the mugs of caffeine, they ate little donut holes, despite it being so late in the evening.

"Where exactly was the last place you saw Ms. Kingston?"

Puke's voice remained rigid the entire time, his eyes dilated and afraid. He rubbed his palms together. It was all surreal in the yellow light that hung above our window seat. "We were in a train car with a real old Coke ad, I think... She was mighty int'rested in all of it, but told me she had to go use the bathroom. Then she was just...gone." He sounded ready to sob, but that didn't keep Harry from casting me a glance to inquire if I'd picked up on anything; I had, but I wasn't going to pause my analysis just to convey my observations to him.

After taking a sip of his drink, one of the officers eyed the nervous P. Frown. "What led you to assume that she has gone missing?"

"After a bit, I was gettin' worried, since it'd been about ten minutes since she'd gone off. I asked a woman entering the restroom to call her name, maybe see if someone was wearing white flats. She came out, said no one was there." The silent officer took notes speedily, the other continued to study Puke as I was: with a scrutiny and curiosity that was piqued by his excessive sweating.

"Son, you're sweating an awful lot. Need a napkin?"

"N-nah, I'm good," he mumbled out.

Harry and I hadn't said anything almost the entire time, and we were invested in the conversation. I caught on not only to Puke's nervousness and lying symptoms, but also to the slatted eyes of the officers.

I checked my watch, realizing it was already ten in the evening, and that I had semi-early classes the next day.

"Hey, I'm going to need to leave now, sirs," I announced, "I need to rest up tonight." I stood and exited through the doors, but saw another glimpse of Puke's panicked face, glistening with sweat. The silence of the police station was replaced in my ears by the squeal of tires on the road.

Frankly, I wasn't surprised when Harry texted me the next day, saying that the officers had taken Luke J. Brown into custody for "suspicious behaviors implying the dishonest nature of a suspect."

A suspect for what? I kept wondering. It didn't seem like I would be able to get an answer.