The room was smaller than Alex expected.
Plain table. Gray walls. Fluorescent lights humming softly overhead. The kind of room designed to strip situations down to facts and leave nowhere for emotion to hide.
The young man stood the second Alex walked in.
Too quickly.
His chair scraped loudly against the floor.
He looked worse up close.
Not dangerous.
Just wrecked.
Sleepless shadows under his eyes. Hands trembling slightly at his sides.
The kind of face Alex had seen before outside premieres and events people who lived too much of their emotional life through strangers they didn't actually know.
Mr. Kim remained near the door, arms crossed.
The detective stayed inside too, careful and observant.
The young man bowed so deeply it looked painful.
"I'm sorry," he said immediately.
The words came out rough and rushed, like he'd rehearsed them too many times and none of the versions sounded right anymore.
Alex said nothing.
The silence stretched.
