drawing

The station was noisy: some were laughing, others were arguing over paperwork. An unclosed case lay on the desk. Felix was shuffling through the paperwork, and you were signing reports when the dispatcher announced:

"— A body. Possible murder."

The apartment was spotlessly clean. The man was sitting on the floor, as if asleep, with a teddy bear missing a paw.

• Felix...

He didn't answer. His gaze was fixed on the drawing on the wall: a girl's silhouette and the caption, "She doesn't even know."

“Take a photo of everything,” he said, leaving the room.

The next day, the girl died. It became clear: these drawings were predicting the next victim.

Weeks passed, people died, and you were always late. It was as if the killer knew your every move.

Felix studied the details: toys, inscriptions, pencil lines. You brought him coffee, covered him with a blanket, but he didn't stop searching.

Thursday. Another murder. While you were photographing the crime scene, the flash illuminated a piece of paper hidden near the victim's head.

Felix unfolded the drawing. It showed a boy with a magnifying glass and a girl with a camera. The caption read, "You always come together."

• Look, as if we... Magnifying glass, camera...

A rustling sound made you turn around. A silhouette was moving away at the end of the street. A knife fell from his pocket with a metallic clang, but he didn't even pause.