Body language were the conscious and unconscious movements and postures by which attitudes and feelings were communicated.
I hunched in an attempt to minimize myself physically out of consternation. I was about to pee my pants from the dreadful feeling in my stomach while Levy carelessly drummed his fingers on the metal desk in the dark room.
Taking a risk and looking into the interrogator eyes that had his arms crossed on his chest made the dreadful feelings inside my stomach intensify.
"So, what is your story, Lia Maxwell?" he urged me by starting off with a question as his face neared mine.
"There is one called Dating The Killer-" I began nervously.
"No, I didn't mean that, all I meant about what happened in the suicide scene?" he corrected me in a grouchy manner as he raised a bus
