The interrogation.

There I sat at the table in a dimly lit interrogation room, my breath in rhythm of nervous anticipation. I had no idea why I was here. Just moments ago I was working at my job when the agents arrived, two men wearing black dress suits and sunglasses walking up to me out of the blue and ordering me to come with them. Their voices indicated they were serious and their blank facial expressions were intimidating. I had no choice but to comply.

I heard a door open as the same two agents entered the room and sat down in empty chairs at the other side of the table, where they both faced me with the same terrifying blank faces they had on before.

“All right,” one of the agents spoke up, “how much do you know?”

I was confused, nervous and scared all at the same time while trying to come up with an answer to that question. I couldn’t form an answer when I couldn’t even understand what was being asked, so I swallowed my pride and with great hesitation, I replied, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The two agents turned to face each other and after a minute of silent nodding, they both turned to face me.

“Okay, you can go.”

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