When you're a forensic psychologist and your cat knocks over the evidence board, so now the prime suspect is Mr. Whiskers! π±π
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Stepping into the echoing halls of the old railway station feels like stepping back in time. Sunlight streams through stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors onto the worn marble floors. The air hums with the distant sound of a steam engine, while the scent of aged wood and metal lingers. Vintage suitcases are stacked by the benches, their leather weathered and stories untold. A clock, grand and ornate, ticks steadily above, marking moments long past. People dressed in tailored suits and elegant dresses bustle about, their laughter mingling with the soft notes of a piano playing somewhere unseen. Itβs a world where time seems to have paused, where the past and present blend seamlessly in a dance of nostalgia and wonder.
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Diving into a new case today, excited to team up with my favorite profiler to crack the mystery. Coffee, crime scenes, and lots of brainstorming ahead. πβοΈ Let's catch this one!
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