ELENA
The sun would rise in about an hour. I pulled my grey sweater tightly around me, but the cold was still not manageable, given that I was wearing knee-length shorts.
Joanna had four cups of coffee, but she drank only the first one, only to scrunch her face in displease at its bland taste. The remaining three cups went into the trash can by the door after the liquid in it got cold.
Yes, she used those cups as her handy portable small heaters- her saviour from the chilliness in the air.
I glanced down at my thumb and sighed. I desperately wanted to scratch it, but this weirdo beside me had covered it with duct tape she borrowed from the officer with glasses.
"Don't even think of it!" She warned, guessing the thought in my head.
I groaned and slump back in the chair. Not five minutes later, the door of the interrogation room opened again, and this time Sheriff Bolt was not the only one who stepped out.
