Ron walked dejectedly down the cold blustery beach. He debated proposing to Dora. He was poor, can’t even buy her a decent ring. Her family disliked him.
He saw a tiny glint a few steps away. He picked it up and cleaned the sand off.
It was a gold ring, its precious stone long gone.
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Bryan shuffled across the linoleum to the fridge, squinting against the harsh florescent glare. Two scoops and ten cups later, the coffee pot was busy doing its thing.
He collapsed into a chair, head aching. Police files covered the table. A photo begged him for answers.
“In time,” he thought. “With caffeine comes clarity.”
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