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A voice called out.

He froze.

It was a girl. He knew that. He didn’t know her name or her face or what she was doing or what she had done but he knew that it was a girl and that she knew what he had done and she was going to do something. He didn’t know what. He didn’t even know if she was actually going to do something if she wanted revenge or whether she even knew who he was he just knew. From the tone. From what she was saying. She was casual. She was acting like this was normal. He just knew. That wasn’t something good. He knew that she had heard the man on the speaker. He knew that she had heard his name. He wasn’t entirely sure whether she knew but he knew that people knew who he was. He was that guy who owned the café. He was always that face. A face to a name. A face to a name everyone now knew killed a person.

She knew.

They all knew.

He couldn’t trust her.

He didn’t turn his head.

He looked. Behind the chair. Through the chair. He could see the bag. If he took a couple steps around it he could get it.

She had asked him a question. He knew that he had to answer it. She knew. He was at her mercy. Maybe if she knew that he wasn’t… if he wasn’t like the other people she would let him go. Be nice to him.

He would have liked either at this point.

“I was… I was planning on leaving. I don’t really, um, like this place.”

He turned his head, slightly. The girl - someone he didn’t recognise - wasn’t carrying anything. At least not that he could see.

He took a step forward. Towards the bag.

He hoped she didn't know what he was doing.
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And What You Get, Isn't What You See · Electroshock Therapy