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The low humming and buzzing sound overhead felt ten times amplified in Bruno head. He was in a room with an interrogator, it was a few weeks after his car got totaled.
Bruno sits slouched in his chair, hair mussed and shirt half unbuttoned. Across from him was a fat man, composed and flipping through files.
"You said the vehicle was traveling at... what speed, exactly?"
The fat officer questioned.
"Ah, who counts on a road like that? It was a gorgeous day..I had barely touched the pedal."
Bruno grinned weakly.
"Barely?"
"Maybe ninety... a hundred. We were just..driving. You know how it is."
The investigator in front of Bruno scribbles something as the air hums with the sound of a passing car outside. The fat man pulls out a photograph of the law student from the files and gently lays it in front of Bruno.
"The boy, Roberto Mariani. How long had you known him?"
"Not long. Met him that morning. College student, he's the quiet type."
Bruno paused.
"Mr. Cortona, do you understand what happened on that curve?"
Bruno stares at the floor. The fan above whirs on.
"Yeah. It was the motorbike or was it a truck.. you know how bad those roads can get"
Silence. The investigator closes the file quietly and stands.
"You can go for now. We’ll be in touch."
He leaves and Bruno remains seated, hands motionless, staring at the door.
Bruno turns to look at the photograph of Roberto in front of him and leans back. The chair creaks. On the far wall, a clock ticks in rhythm with his pulse. The questions replay, the investigators voice merging with the wind from that curve, the screech of tires. He imagines the road again and this time, he can’t remember if he was steering or just holding on.
He picks up the photograph, stares at it one last time and slides it into his pocket. When he stands, the legs of the chair scrape sharply on the tile, sudden, too loud. He mutters to the empty room:
“You should’ve been driving.”
The words hang there and Bruno leaves without looking back.