3rd Person Pov
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Ethan's stomach churned uneasily. He straightened up a bit, his fingers instinctively gripping the arm of the chair until his knuckles hurt. The chilly night air drifted in with the officers, bringing along the faint scent of wet pavement and something metallic he couldn't quite place.
The older officer cleared his throat. "He was found dead earlier this evening in a remote motel on the outskirts of Hayseville. It...looks like it was a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. There was a suicide note."
Each word fell into place..."found dead," "motel," "suspected suicide", but they didn't quite register in Ethan's mind. They lingered there, like awkward subtitles in a movie he wasn't sure he wanted to watch.
He found himself fixated on the officer's mouth as he spoke, watching the mustache twitch with each word, half-convinced that if he stared hard enough, the words might rearrange into something less final.
