Bella and I are seated in a quaint little coffee shop, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the soft chatter of patrons around us. This place always has the best coffee, and even though it can be a bit pricey, people tend to love it. I’m stirring my latte absentmindedly, my mind still reeling from everything that’s happened.
“So, Morales said Dell was okay?” I ask Bella. She nods, taking a sip of her cappuccino.
I called her when I was done with my shoot, and she told me she was already out of the station. Morales had been at Dell’s place and was certain that Dell was okay. Apparently, Dell forgetting to lock the door must have been because he left in a hurry.
“Yes, he said he will have him call us the moment he is back from the mission they went on,” she says. I don’t know
