I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...
‘My
son refuses to leave his room.’
‘Why?’
‘Something
about mirrors.’
‘What
about them?’
‘I
have no idea. What I know is he keeps destroying them. I would’ve taken him to
you but I was afraid he’d smash the car’s mirrors too.’
‘Does
he have a history of mental illness?’
‘No,
doctor. I’ve never seen him like this.’
‘How
old is he?’
‘Twenty-three.’
‘Your
address?’
‘Seventeen
Oak Street.’
‘I’ll
be right there.’
He
hung up, turned to his partner. ‘We have another one.’
‘How
much does he know?’
‘Everything,
I think.’
‘Has
he talked?’
‘He’s
hinted about it in texts to a few people.’
‘Okay,’ he sighed, ‘Let’s go get him.’
