A small balloon filled with silence floats by. Not the under

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A small balloon filled with silence floats by. Not the under watered muffled sounds of bubbles and currents. The stillness of a thousand leaves of a hundred trees. A real silence of thought. Last heartbeat before the fainting. The quiet before the storm.

"Sir, I'm very sorry for your loss."

The silence was not enough, so I close my eyes. Expecting blackness I can only see her face. Her eyes.

"Sir, we need to have you come with us down to the station."

I look down at my bare feet and my flannel robe. The officer follows my eyes.

"We can wait for you to get dressed."

I shrug and then flinch when he pats my shoulder. I turn, leaving the silence of the open front door and calmly stare towards my bedroom. Our bedroom.

The night shined with a recent rainfall, leaving a tar and oil smell in the air. The station was just a few blocks away.

It was a typical big town, small city place. Some used it as suburbia, others as their home town. Most people just drove by through, wondering what people did or didn't do to live there.

I was guided to the second of only two interview rooms. The first room was occupied by a wash of light through the frosted glass. Voices crept from beneath a solid steel door.

The room was small with a desk mounted to the floor. The air was cold. I noticed a separate thermastat mounted next to the door. A mirrored ball concealing a camera mounted on a corner ceiling tile. The click of a lock.

"I'm sorry to have to ask, John. I just need to know where you were tonight?"

"Can I see her?" I ask , knowing it would be an expected request.

"Not now, but soon.."

I need to see her, I need to know.... How will this end?

Then she opens the door, looks down at me ...smirks and then laughs.