Perhaps You Misunderstood.

Still, in a state of shock, I absentmindedly watch as the paramedic cleans the small wounds scattered across my arms as the detective continues to ask me questions.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Landry, but do you have any idea who would want to burn your bakery down?” Detective Ashley inquires, his pen touching the pocket-sized field notebook he holds in his hand.

Continuing to watch the paramedic, I shake my head, “No.” I sigh, trying to come to terms that everything that has happened this morning wasn’t a dream.

“Witnesses say that you accused a male named,” He pauses, flipping a few pages forward, “Kip.” Flipping the pages back over, he regards me again.

This time I turn my head and look at the detective through misty eyes. “Kip?” I sniffle, feeling like shit for blaming him in the first place. “Kip wouldn’t hurt a fly. He said something that didn’t sit right with me and in return, I accused him. It was petty, and I wanted to hurt him.”

Detective Ashley nods his head, writing everything I