Page 3 of Night and Day
Izzy looked at the overgrown garden behind his window, wondering for the hundredth time why he’d stayed so close to the river. He could have left it all behind, if he’d done it straight away. Everyone would have understood. If only he’d done it back then, when nobody had expected anything from him. But he’d always been the responsible one, and when Henry’s organisation got the funding, he felt obligated to help. It paid well enough and gave him the chance to do his own thing on the side. That’s why he did it, he reminded himself; To fund his art, the film he wanted to create. It was all worth it, as long as he figured out the ending.
Izzy snapped the cordless headphones on his ears, picked up his phone, browsed Spotify for the right playlist, and closed his eyes. As soon as he heard the first notes of the classical instruments, his mind was transported into a world, the music making the imaginary world appear behind his eyelids like a painter’s brush that swept across a canvas. How did the story end? What was beyond Limbo, the ominous transportation hub of the afterlife? Where did the doors lead?
The answers would come to him if he freed his mind and drifted into that state between conscious and unconscious. It was right there, within his grasp, eluding and teasing him like a forgotten word on the tip of one’s tongue.
Chapter 3
“Can you give us a visual description of the thief? Tall, short, dark, fair?”
Mia stared into the pair of sharp eyes behind blue-rimmed spectacles and a wall of bulletproof glass and swallowed a sour lump. “I didn’t see them.”
“You didn’t see the person who mugged you?” The middle-aged receptionist repeated, blinking rapidly. Her blue vest matched her glasses and her ponytail seemed too tight for comfort.
“Mugging is probably not the right word...” Mia hesitated, her brain drawing blank after blank. What was it called when someone mugged you without touching or even threatening to hurt you? Or even being seen? Like a ghost. “Someone took my luggage when I wasn’t looking.”
“Did you leave your things unattended? Someone might have taken them to lost and found.”
The woman pointed to her left, rattling out directions to the said lost and found. Mia shook her head. “No! I was standing right there. I just... closed my eyes for a second.”
“At 43 Wyndham Street, in front of the Cathedral of St Patrick and St Joseph?” She read from her screen, then flicked her penetrating gaze back at Mia, who felt heat rising her cheeks.
“I was praying,” she muttered.
The woman nodded slowly and the corner of her mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. “Next time, it might be safer to prayinsidethe church. Especially if you have a lot of valuables on your person.”
Mia scoffed. Like she was ever going to pray again. God obviously didn’t like her very much. In fact, God seemed to have a cruel sense of humour, much like this receptionist, who was still eyeing her with barely concealed amusement.
“Is there a computer I could use? Or a phone?”
The woman gave her an odd look. “No. This is a police station. There’s an internet cafe two blocks away if you need one.”
“But I don’t have any money. I have nothing!”
“What’s on your back?”
Mia sighed, lowering the guitar case on the floor so it was fully visible. “It’s an old acoustic guitar, not worth much. I could sell it, just don’t know how or where...”
