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Forty Three - Clinical
I stared at the closed doors to my father's study for a long time.
For a moment when I shut my eyes it felt like he could be in there, on a phone call or surfing the web on his computer or flipping through a book.
It felt like I could step inside and ask him about his day or offer him help. It felt wrong to want to go in there and snoop among his things for a possible suicide note.
The thought sent a shiver through me. The logical part of my brain suspected that it couldn't have been a suicide, not with the circumstances of his death, but the heavily emotional one felt like a hamster running on a wheel-clogged with too many thoughts, too many theories, too many feelings.
Captain Lee told me that if I needed to go inside the study I could, but I was to be careful in case they needed to consult the
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