Marcella sat with her head bowed and counted the ridges on the table. She's been doing that for God knows how long. Her mind was racing all over and she needed to do something to focus herself.
The cop sitting opposite her tapped the table with his fingers. It annoyed her. It was fine for the first minute or two but now, it was torture for her. She had no way of knowing the time and she knew it probably was dark already.
Thanksgiving was over.
"When are you going to let me see my husband?" Marcella asked the cop, breaking the silence, hoping this time he would answer her.
"Do you know why you are here?" the cop asked.
"Hmm," Marcella smirked. "Now you're talking to me?" she raised her brows.
