They are in the middle of having sex when suddenly the door bell rings. Buzz, buzzzzzz, buzzzzzzes. The man doesn’t want to leave her but when the noise goes on for a couple of long seconds, he gets up.
The policeman, being only in his mid twenties, could be surprised when he sees the guy opening the door. It’s shortly after noon and he only wears underwear, plus looking as if he had been in the middle of a workout. Not to forget that there’s a second car standing in front of the house that is located somewhere in the middle if nowhere, over 20 kilometres to the next smaller town.
But the policeman doesn’t notice anything. He thinks about his ex-girlfriend, ex-wife, ex-… how is she to call? He doesn’t find the right name for her – the time they spent together has been too long. Knowing everything of each other might have been perfect once but at a certain point of time, it broke them. She left one month ago, leaving him back with a mind both full of thoughts and emptiness.
He tries to find safeness in his working routine. Asking if he may come in. Telling the guy in front of him what happened two hours ago in the city. Two cars crashing. A woman dying within minutes.
The husband also tries. He tries to remember which dress his wife wore when she left the house in the morning. He can’t remember – there’s no image appearing in his brain. Everything erased within seconds.
The policeman waits outside while the husband hurries to get dressed. As quickly as he got undressed half an hour ago, just that he had a helping hand back then.
When the two men have left, the mistress gets up. She heard what they talked about. Lying naked in bed, she thought she should start to shiver now because of guiltiness. But why didn’t see? Is she really a cold-blooded bitch like everybody called her after she had left her own husband one month ago?