I Saw The Whole Thing

“I saw the whole thing,” I sobbed into the camera as reporters crowded around me.


There had been a brutal murder in the building, and I unfortunately was the only witness. A slim shadow in a grey hoodie had slipped into a cubicle in my office building, ending a life with not so much as a backwards glance and slipping back out through the fire escape.


“I saw the whole thing,” I repeated, tears raining down my cheeks.


“You don’t have to say anything more,” a police officer told me, and I saw compassion behind his eyes.


He walked me to my car.


“You gonna be okay?”


I looked at him for a moment, thinking over my response before I made it.


“I hope so.”


He offered a grim smile and started to walk away.


“Thank you,” I called, hugging myself and leaning against my car.


I opened my car and adjusted the rear view mirror, glancing at the black briefcase in the back seat. I wiped the tears from my face and drove home, turning on the tv as soon as I reached my living room.


My interview was plastered all over the news. I sighed and set my alarm clock for one in the morning. When that time came, I donned my hoodie and went to my next part time job: being the night watchman in a museum.


The coworker I was filling in for was exhausted, and gladly relinquished his keys and flashlight. He did stop for a moment beside the front door and look at me, however.


“I can’t believe that about the murder,” he commented, knitting his eyebrows and shaking his head. “You really saw the whole thing go down?”


I nodded.


“It was terrible.”


“I bet. Well….have a good night.”


“You too.”


As soon as he left I locked the door, pulled out the black briefcase and glanced around. When I opened it the beam from my flashlight glinted off of several sharp objects, one of which being a short kitchen knife.


I picked it up, grimacing at the stains on it. I thought about the interview and the questions they asked:


“How do you know what happened?”


“I saw the whole thing,” I whispered, a wicked grin on my face as I shrugged and wiped the knife on a napkin.

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