Kat was in a police interrogation room. She was trying to allow her body to remain relaxed in order to portray the illusion that she wasn't worried. It wasn't working because truth was Kat was terrified.
Her hands are cuffed to the table in front of her; a sturdy but lightweight chain looping through hardware in the centre of the table keeping her anchored to the room but gives her enough room to sit comfortably. Except Kat was anything but comfortable.
The cold concrete walls were doing nothing for the actual temperature in the room. Kat felt the sweat begin to roll down her spine. A bead rolled off the end of her nose. Kat wondered if she was sweating out of anxiousness or heat. She brought her attention back to the room. The air was stale and tasted of other people's sweat. Broken air conditioner it is then.
Kat took a deep breath and gives herself a mental pep talk. This is nothing, she has been in stickier situations. She'd survived worse and she'd survive this. Time to start an escape plan.
Footsteps boomed outside the room, faint at first but still intense enough to stop her heart for a millisecond. They become louder with each step, the heavy gait of a man with power. Kat smiled despite herself as she wondered if her womanly charms could get her out of this. The handle of the door turned sharply, and the door scraped across the floor as it opened. The sound was enough to cool her body a little, the haunted nails on chalkboard like sound echoing in the room otherwise empty except for Kat, her table, and its two chairs. A man swept in commanding the dank room instantly; his appearance matches his footsteps. The man was tall, muscular, and dressed in a fashionably fitted suit. The man clearly demanded the attention of any room he entered and would have been attractive had he not imprisoned Kat for some unnamed crime. He was used to getting his way with charm and good looks or pure intimidation. Not just a policeman; the suit implied he was federal. What had she gotten herself into this time?
"Are you going to tell me why I've been arrested because it's illegal if you don't," Kat began to demand. She was ready for the fight.
The man strode across the room to stand opposite her. His startling green eyes look down at her and his gaze remains neutral and uninterested, shutting her up but cutting off the air to her lungs; he has a far better poker face than Kat. His lips pull into a tight line as if he's contemplating a puzzle. Kat knew she was the puzzle. He exhaled forcefully through his nose and swung his body gracefully into the seat opposite Kat.
His posture was rigid and formal, but he leaned forward towards Kat. She knew it's because he's trained to interrogate and interview. Perfect posture with an active listening stance. She fought to keep her face from displaying her current activity: sizing him up. For a long moment they stared at each other, both searching for answers the other wasn't willing to give up.
"Why don't you tell me why I arrested you," the man finally responded, his question gentle but firm. He accented his confidence with a toss of a stack of photos that landed on the table in front of Kat.
Some of the photos were older than others. It was clear instantly by the varying states of them that they had been taken at different points in history:
Black and white photos from the World Wars,
Yellowed festival pictures from the 60s and 70s,
Smoky polaroids from the 80s,
A picture from the base of the towers after the fell on 9/11,
A wrinkled shot of people watching the signing of the constitution,
A blurry newspaper cut out of the Berlin wall coming down,
Print outs of paintings that seem to span from ancient roman times through the middle ages and into the renaissance.
YOU ARE READING
Forever and a Half
RomanceKat has always been on her own, since Caesar ruled over Rome. When she meets someone who claims to be like her, will she be able to let her guard down enough to change her fate?
