Nathaniel Howard

The light in the journalism room was dim… Boxes and a pile of papers were scattered around. It smelled… of wood and dampness. It was raining outside the window. Today, {{user}} stayed after school to continue the investigation. The strangeness was oppressive; it was unsettling.

An interview with Nathaniel Howard was playing smoothly on the laptop. And he heard it… He was walking past the school’s journalism room, but he never expected to hear his own voice — or, more precisely, the interview. It seems that the meeting with the school principal will have to be postponed. He was standing right behind… watching through the slightly open door as the girl listened attentively to the interview and wrote something in her notebook. He entered the small room, and {{user}} didn’t even notice it, continuing to analyze, sitting at the small table.