She was so excited for college. The most I’ve ever seen her before. She was almost there. She would talk about it nonstop, more than she would talk about anything. She had it all planned out: she was going to go to a culinary school and build a bakery from the ground up, and if that didn’t work, her backup was going to be a chef. She loved cooking. It was her favorite thing. Hopefully, that was the last thing she did before she took her last breath…

Has it been five minutes yet? I can think now. Kind of. I should at least be able to form a sentence. I just need to get this over with. I don’t know how much longer I can take this cop questioning me; he’s getting on my nerves and I want to punch him but I’ll just be in here a lot longer than I want to be.

What’s that sound? Is that the door opening? Oh, finally, the five minutes are over. He walks over to the chair right in front of me and puts his notepad on the table along with his arms. I want to get this over with. “Five minutes are up. Can you speak now?”

Such a jerk for what? “Yes. I can. You don’t have to be rude about it.” Probably should’ve kept that to myself. You know what? I don’t care. He started it first. Just, hopefully, 10 more minutes of this and it’ll all be over and I can go home and sleep.

“Uh-huh. Okay, ma’am. Can you answer my previous question? Why did you and the victim get into an argument over this,” he pauses to look at his notepad then clears his throat. “Noah Jones boy?” A small chill went down my spine hearing that name. Why? I don’t know nor do I want to worry about it.

“Basically, No—, ahem, he was her boyfriend and he would tell her I was making moves on him, when I never was, and she would believe him over me. Although, he would always try to flirt with me and every time I would reject him and tell Cam- ahem, my best friend but then he would lie to her and show her fake texts. We decided to stop talking for a little bit because we thought we needed a break.”

I can’t even say her name. I can’t use past tense in the same sentence with her name knowing it’ll never be in the present tense. It’s okay. I should be done soon. Hopefully, that was the last question.

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He writes in his stupid notepad over what I said. “Uh-huh. Great. That should be all ma’am. Thanks for your time. Also, some advice for a teen like you, respect your elders. I may be years older but that doesn’t mean I deserve any less respect than you do.”

Great. A questioning and a lecture. “Yep. Will do. Can I go now? I’ve been here for a little over thirty minutes. It’s freezing in here and I don’t have my jacket.” I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m so sick of this. I just want to go home.

“Uhh, yes you can go. Just go check out from the front.” I start getting up from my chair, then right as my hand is on the handle, the cop starts talking again.

“Kid, before you go, you can make it through this. I know she was your best friend but she’s in a better place now. All you can do is continue and finish your life. I’m sure that’s what she would’ve wanted.”

I start feeling the tears building up but I just suck them up and just stare at him blankly before thinking of anything to say. I never thought I would hear that from a total stranger, that stranger being a cop and who he’s talking about is my best friend.

“Uhm. Will do. Thank you.” I pull the lever and open the door and I walk out. He said it with such ease. “I’m sure that’s what she would’ve wanted.” How would you know? You have never cared about her until last week. You didn’t know her and now you never will. He won’t know how kind, loving, talkative, and funny she was. Whatever. I just need my stuff and I need to check out.

I walk up front to the front desk so I can get the hell out of this place. “Hi, ma’am. Last name, is Smith. First name, Valerie. I’m here to get my stuff.” The receptionist is a woman in her mid-50s I would say. She seems sweet. Wonder how her life is going. Would she be okay if her best friend died?

Wait what? What am I saying? I- I didn’t… What’s coming over me? “Here you go,” she starts handing me my jacket and phone. “Have a good day!”

“Yeah, you too.” I grabbed my stuff and checked my phone to see what I missed. Nothing. Usually, my phone has missed texts from Camellia. She would always text me about what I missed, which was basically everything. Called me whenever we both got home from school.

I finally get ready to walk out of the police station and I start to pull the glass door open. The sun starts hitting my face as I open the door and walk out. I’m finally out of this place. I can now officially put this behind me. Maybe that cop was right. She would want me to continue life all the way to the end.