Pigeons cooed as crows cawed, They flapped their wings across Vernis, eventually landing on the roof of a police station near the central park.

  The building had the look of a courthouse, it was hard to imagine its firm structure broken. All kinds of people stepped up its pristine stairs, rushing to pass through the station's wide, transparent doors.

  Among these people was one man in particular. Elyas drew stares from everyone, his plain gray shirt and brown vest an odd choice for the last chilly days of fall. Most of the attention, though, came from the unconscious man he dragged by the collar in one hand, while carrying coffee in the other.

  Ignoring the stares, Elyas quickened his pace and after reaching the end of the hall, he turned left and disappeared from sight.

  …

  A door silently opened and shut. A few officers glanced up, some smiling as they recognized the familiar face. But more knitted their brows, shaking their heads in disapproval.

  One of them said with a grin, "What brings you here “old friend "?"

  His twin brother, with the same sharp face and serious expression added, "Don't mind my brother's jokes, if you can even call them that." Ralf said as he walked to greet Elyas

  He added, "But seriously, did you have to make a scene out there? If it wasn't for the fact that I know you, I would have thought you were the criminal!"

  Elyas chuckled. "Evidently, bad jokes run in your family."

  Both hugged and shared pleasantries. Elyas desperately tried to ignore the gazes of the injured, half-eaten officers. Most piled near the blood soaked walls, others dangling at the edge of the collapsed roof. Elyas turned, making eye contact with one of them, a young man crawling on the ground towards him with pleading, hopeful eyes.

  Then Elyas blinked.

  The bodies were gone, the roof as pristine as ever, the dead officers now walking and chatting with their colleagues. There was no crack or trace of blood anywhere.

  Ralf gave Elyas a strange look. “What are you looking at?”

  A scowl appeared on Elyas's face, he examined Ralf for a moment before answering, “Nothing.”

  Then he set down his coffee, reached into his pocket and gave Ralf his reports.

  "By the way, thanks for helping with the case. We wouldn't have found his hideout if it wasn't for you. Although I didn't expect less from our chief." Ralf said with a smile as he took in the documents, placing empty forms in front of Elyas in return.

  Josh rolled his eyes.

  “So, what’s new with you guys? I’ve started reading recently. It’s fun.” Elyas said, trying to spark up a conversation.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Joshua snorted. "You? Reading books? Last time you were here you acted like paper gave you allergies."

  "Josh," his brother Ralf warned, glaring. "You want extra shifts again for mouthing off to coworkers?"

  Josh gasped, "Oh come on Ralf! You're supposed to take my side! And he doesn't even work here anymore. Remember? He's a private detective now."

  Elyas turned back, distancing himself from the fight and heading towards the door. "I need to pick up Michael. You two can keep arguing."

  As he reached for the handle, Ralf called out. "Leaving already? What about the paperwork for Sleeping Beauty over here?" He said, pointing at the unconscious criminal.

  Elyas smirked. "Your brother looked bored, Thought half an hour of forms might fix that."

  Ralf's laughter followed him as the door closed.

  …

  RING! RING! RING!

  Under the golden afternoon sun, the school bell echoed across the street. Children rushed out like water bursting from a dam. In a car parked nearby, Elyas waited, sipping from his cup of coffee and listening to the radio.

  The static was deafening. Elyas flicked through the radio channels, but each one just seemed to amplify the noise. It felt like someone was ringing a bell inside his skull, a persistent, aching echo. He slammed the dial to one last station and finally, a break in the noise.

  "Breaking news," said the announcer. "The infamous vandalism group known as “The Reverend” have returned, burning down an entire mall… what? Really?! Cough cough. Our reporters say today, a member of their group was captured with the help of an unidentified detective. Local authorities have issued a statement regarding the ever increasing number of these vandalism groups—"

  A soft knock on the window cut through the broadcast. Elyas turned it off and looked up. A boy with bright blue eyes and messy dark hair peered in.

  "Dad, the door's locked."

  Elyas's expression melted into warmth. He unlocked the door. "Hop in buddy. We've got places to be." Michael climbed in, swinging his small legs, as he watched the houses pass by from the window.

  "So," Elyas asked, "how was school? Weren't you supposed to get your test results today?"

  "Yup. Out of ten tests, I got four B's and six A's."

  Elyas grinned. "That's my boy! To celebrate, we're eating out. Where to?" Michael's answer came instantly: "Burger."

  "You want burgers?" Elyas sighed dramatically. "You know it's not good for you… but since you've been a good student, we'll make an exception."

  "Yes! Thanks dad!"

  Michael hesitated for a bit, “Can I get a toy too?”

  "Alright. We get both. But not one of those greasy fast-food chains, their quality's trash, and if I recall, one just got hit by another vandalism group. Apparently destroying public safety is a popular pastime now." He muttered that last part under his breath as he turned the car left.

  …

  That night, at nine o'clock, the Mortalle household glowed softly under the porch light. The static of the TV hummed throughout the entire home.

  Inside, Elyas and Michael sat across from each other at a round wooden table. Two empty chairs waiting silently beside them.

  They stared at the clock, waiting. Just as Michael lifted one of the fries his father had cooked, the doorbell rang. Elyas hurried to the door and opened it.

  There was an elderly man with a face full of deep lines and a woman whose soft smile seemed untouched by age.

  "Oh honey, how have you been?" the old lady said with a warm smile. "Hey." said the elderly man.

  "Hi mom. Hi dad. Come in, it's cold outside." Elyas said, motioning them inside.

  As they walked towards the dining room. Elyas turned to the small boy, "Michael, could you turn off the TV? It's been playing static all day."

  Michael gave him a confused look. But went to the living room anyway. Dinner began in pleasant silence. The rich aroma of food filled the air, punctuated only by the sound of forks and laughter.

  Midway through the meal, his father asked, "So son, how's work? We haven't heard from you since you quit to become a detective."

  His mother chuckled. “Oh dear,” she said, motioning to her husband, “Don't care for his cold phrasing. You should have seen your father's face when I told him you could have gone bankrupt.”

  Michael, in the middle of eating his burger, did a spit take. Almost choking on a piece of lettuce. Elyas patted his son's back and said in response:

  “There's nothing to worry about. I've got some savings and I'm not that financially irresponsible.” the same old conversation, he felt like a broken record at this point.

  His father spoke. “Doesn't matter. You deal with criminals. It's still a dangerous, unstable job. You told me yourself.”

  Elyas's grip tightened around his fork as his father’s words hit their mark. Every year. The same conversation. Every year, they would come here just to complain. He was too tired for this.

  His mother nodded, "Yes! You know how worried we were? It's only been a year since you adopted Michael. You could've at least let us ease the burden of dealing with him."

  Michael's chewing slowed down, Elyas's jaw tightened as he saw his son's reaction. He had already heard enough.

  "My son isn't a burden." he stated sharply.

  The table fell silent for a moment, "Honey it has nothing to do with you adopting Michael—" Elyas cut in.

  “Stop” he raised his voice. Watching his own mother and son flinch in response. Michael squirmed in his chair. His grandpa frowned as he watched from the side.

  He got up. Gesturing for his wife to do the same. “Come on Martha, let's go.” Elyas avoided her mother's hurt expression. He didn't stop them though. They left without saying another word, Elyas remained seated, staring at his cold steak. Listening.

  Only the bang of the house door and the sound of a car engine starting was heard before that, too, disappeared.

  Michael, still uncomfortable, left in silence. But in his eyes, there was… disappointment. He left Elyas alone on the full table. Elyas picked up his fork. What little he ate didn't have much taste after that.

  He wished he made them stay, but wishes can only get you so far.