When she opened them, the cold grey room was gone. She was no longer wearing her drab, oversized wool cardigan. Instead, she was dressed in a pristine, tailored 1940s trench coat. The harsh fluorescent hum had been replaced by the rich, sweeping violins of a classic Hollywood orchestra.
Susan looked at the detective, her eyes glazed but fiercely determined. She straightened her cardigan and folded her hands neatly on the table.
"It was a very beautiful story," Susan said softly, smiling a small, tragic smile. "And you are trying to ruin it." If you'd like to explore this further, let me know: