Time to interrogate!
I was sitting across from a slim, yet busty, middle-aged woman whose eyes showed she had a tough life and skin indicated she was a chain smoker. I could tell she had been a looker in her younger years. I could also tell she was a natural brunette underneath a full mane of blonde, stringy hair. Her expression was one of boredom and annoyance.
“Why did you have to run Miss Richards? You messed up my favorite pair of shoes, you know?” “I’m sorry. I panicked, okay? Can I go now?” she said during an eye-roll.
“No, you may not. Do you want to know why I think you ran? Because you were afraid we had found out about your emails to the Dear Jesse column”.
She remained silent and folded her arms across her chest.
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