The heat in the room was oppressive. The window – which in reality was more a porthole than its conventional cousin – was sealed shut. The Air Conditioning duct was not humming. Venky suspected that the turning off of the Air Conditioner might have been a deliberate ploy. “Make the suspect as uncomfortable as he possibly can feel.” This was after all an interrogation chamber and not an idyllic resort.
Soon, a man clad in a pinstripe suit and shuffling a sheaf of papers purposefully strode into the room. Placing the folder on the small round table, he briskly produced a pack of cigarettes and proceeded to light one. He ignored Venky’s pointed glance towards the No Smoking sign on the wall.
“Now for the last time did you hit the man on the head with the floorboard?”
“Yes. I did indeed. I have already confessed before.” Venky was composed.
“Because he tried to assault Ash.” Venky’s voice now had a tinge of fury as he recollected the sequence of eventful events.
“Remind me what does this Ash mean to you?”
Unblinkingly staring straight into the eyes of the man, through a swirl of smoke, Venky replied, “My Life.”
(Word Count: 200)
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