Blog 2

As Shawn's fingers continued to strum, he noticed a large shadow cast over him. He glanced upwards and saw a large a figure looking down at him. It was a man, just like the ones he had seen on all the popular American television shows. His muscular arms were crossed, and pinned to his chest stood a shiny, golden badge. Behind the officer, a woman in a similar intimidating suit held a notepad and a pen, watching the interaction. In horror, Shawns eyes became the size of ping-pong balls and his heart raced so fast it was practically beating out of his chest. He slowly stopped strumming his guitar.

 “Hello Sir, we were wondering if we could ask you a few questions concerning the murder of Mr. Evans”
 “I...I...I gotta use the jack!” Shawn stumbled as he sprinted for the bathroom, leaving his guitar by the broken fountain where he was sitting. As the guitar that was once leaning against the fountain fell towards the hard floors, the two officers looked at each other in utter confusion.

Shawn opened the door to the bathroom stall, praying that the two officers had forgotten about him as he washed his stubby hands in the lobby bathroom. The voice of the officer questioning him about the murder was still haunting his mind. Who was Mr. Evans? Was he murdered in this building? Why would they question me? Still waiting inside the smelly bathroom, Shawn gathered the strength to peak his head out of the door, and let out a breath of relief.

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