Unearthed

(Next Morning)

I woke up around 8 and went on with my normal routine. I first showered and threw on a dark blue V-neck shirt that had a knot tied at the bottom corner like a cowboy; I matched it with a pair of black pants with a few jewels studded towards the bottom of the jeans. I trotted back into the bathroom to first brush my hair out to then put it in a bun, but ended up spicing it up a little bit by putting eyeliner on.

I walked down the stairs, and of course after every step a loud disturbing sound creaks through the crisp air. In the kitchen, I broke out my waffle-maker and made the Bisquick mix and poured it right on into the hot iron. I also slathered a few pieces of bacon to a hot pan on the stove; The sizzles and pops of the bacon flew through the air like the beautiful notes of a wind chime on a brisk day, the sounds delighted my senses. The smell was by far the best though, until the fumes of burnt waffle wafted through the air. I hurried up and scooped the crusty waffle out of the maker and threw it on a plate; It wasn't terribly burnt so I just scraped a smidge of the char off and bam, the waffle was practically fixed.

I turned off everything, threw the bacon on my plate and then doused my waffle with a thick coating of the sticky maple syrup. I laid my plate into the living room and sat on the couch. I pulled my laptop off of the side-table and loaded up my work meeting that starts at 9- which gives me about 5 minutes to scarf breakfast down.

(After a few minutes of stuffing my face ...)

My boss started talking on the tele-meeting ...

"So, Noel, for the next project, I need you to analyze the marginal earnings from the past 36 months and present them tomorrow morning to the board of directors."

Ye-yes sir, I hesitantly said back.

For a minute I was overwhelmed, but it shouldn't be that hard right?

A few seconds later, literally my boss sent me like 11 emails of just straight reports. I look outside, and decide to sit outside on the porch; Aunt Geniveve's rocking chairs are memories themselves, I remember sitting on the porch and soaking up a gorgeous sunny fall day. Today was no different. It was beautiful, not too hot, not too cold, somewhere around the 60's. I perched my feet against the rickety white wooden railing and slowly rocked to the mellow breeze that fluttered every now and then again.

I loaded every dang report on my computer, I had so many screens open on my computer that I was getting lost in all of the data. After a few hours of inputting data into a flawless PowerPoint, I was happy and my report actually looked decent. I slapped my computer onto the porch table and rocked to the rhythm of the wind. I dozed off for a few moments, woke up, dozed off again, woke back up - in a few continuous cycles until I fell asleep.

I found myself in that dream again, my mom dragging me out to her car while I'm practically screaming my brains out. Then I see Aunt Geniveve with that look of straight sorrow implanted in her face; I could just tell something was wrong.

I stared at the house for a split second and realized what was off in the picture; There was a shadow towards the back of the house, I can barely remember the man's face, but just enough. He was about the same age of my Aunt; he was in a black suit with a brown fedora. He was slim, but muscular and he almost definitely had one of those old caramels Geniveve had in her glass candy dishes. Could this be the man from the love letter?

The more I get entangled myself in this dream, the more details start to reveal themselves. I also remember another voice in the background, but it wasn't of the man who I saw. That must only mean there was someone else back there talking to the man.

I then snap out of the dream when I hear footsteps up to the house. It was Officer Leighy. She walked up to the house, but not in uniform.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?", she asked.

No-no you're fine, I pleaded.

"I have to talk to you about something, can we go into your house?", Leila questioned.

I noticed that she was looking around, we briefly made eye-contact too and I knew exactly what that meant. I held the door open and we quickly stepped in.

We walked into the kitchen and then Leila started pouring everything out.

"Scranton has reason to believe that you're the culprit. He found footage from Brookhaven Bakery, and noticed you were there and Alexa was too", she put forth.

"We found out that she, was forced into being drowned..",

"... And we actually found a half-eaten cinnamon bun shoved in her coat pocket, so Scranton has reason to think all of these little events are connected back to you".

What?!? . . . I didn't even see her. I don't understand where you're trying to go with this, I ridiculed.

"I just need you to tell me anything else that you can think of, because you need something that might put you away from being a culprit", Leighy said.

I look down and decide to not say too much except, that I think Alexa was looking for something in a building on our property in the woods.

I show her the building and she asks if anything was in here and I quickly say no.

Actually, there is something else . . . there was a man who was peering in my car that day after I was at the Bakery and I think he used to be the gardener before my aunt passed away. I've also had some strange occurrences around the house and I think someone might have been in there a few times. I feel like it's way too connected.

"I'll look into who that is, but are you sure there's nothing else you want to tell me?", she pushed again.

No, I said. But I could tell she wanted to fish something out of me, I just don't know what.

She slowly made her way back to her car, and she looked at the house one last time before she drove away.

I rush back up to the house after the coast was clear and there on the table a fresh cinnamon bun was in the wrapper from the Brookhaven Bakery. I need someone to talk to and really help me understand all of this, I decide to call Evelyn, to tell her EVERYTHING.