That somehow made it worse.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I said quickly, already grabbing my coat. “I just bought her cupcakes.”
“We understand,” the other officer said, holding the door open. “We just need to clear a few things up.”
Clear a few things up.
What does that even mean? What could possibly need clearing up here?
I ran through a thousand scenarios in my head.
Had I accidentally done something illegal?
Was there some law about talking to children I didn’t know about? Was kindness suddenly a crime?
The ride to the station was quiet.
I kept replaying the café in my head.
The girl’s tears. The way she hugged me. The money under the teapot.
At the station, they led me into a small interview room.
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