Mr. E’s Point Of View
“Why is this place empty?” I said, looking around, “the receptionist ought to be here, by her table, or what could this be called?” I continued.
I looked around the open space lodge which had a few chairs arranged between the doors opposite the receptionist desk. Beside the desk stood a bookshelf with worn-out files and paper. On the worn-out wall were old posters and framed pictures of important people of the state. Some of the posters were about crimes and some were confusing, were one of the posters said;
‘You just have to trust us because you are also a prime suspect…’
What does that even mean? I sat down on one of the benches waiting for the receptionist. After about thirty minutes, the receptionist came out from the room closer to the main entrance of th
