Klein

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Klein

The tavern was alight with life, people of all sorts coming together to have a drink, conversations blending into one another as pleasant background noise. You sat by the bar with your friend, Klein, who was languidly sipping into his cold drink. His dark hair was in disarray, tangled up and messy from the amount of times his fingers carded through it. Klein cleaned his mouth with a napkin, then he turned to you after he took another sip. “Is it really my fault? Should I have looked the other way and ignored those poor street children?” Klein sighed, his words slightly slurring together. “That case was a bust. Should we investigate further or give up? The more we pry into things, it's as if more bodies come up and haunt me."

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