The detective's eyes widened. "The...roses," he slowly started.
"Yes, the roses." I encouraged him.
"They were a surprise, yes?" he asked.
"Of course," I replied. "But...well...she was so worried that she barely noticed my decorations."
"And?" The detective cleared his throat. "You were angry?"
"No." I told him. "I was just a little surprised that she wouldn't notice something like
this, you know, 'coz she's usually very observant and stuff like that. She's unique." I chuckled at the memory of her enjoying the tomato soup I made her.
"What's so funny?" the detective asked me.
"Th-the SOUP!" My chortling gradually grew into full-on laughter, and I could feel tears pricking the ends of my eyes.
"The...soup?" I could tell the detective was becoming more and more afraid of me. I also knew that at some point in this lovely conversation he would call me a sick freak or a monster, or maybe a wacko.
"That's right! The soup. And the best part," I began. "She got seconds before she saw what the tiny Italian sausages were!" At this point, I was genuinely excited to tell the detective more, but I guess he couldn't handle it all, because just then, he made a strange, but not unfamiliar, gagging noise. Actually it was similar to hers when she saw the sausages.
"Ok, ok stop."
"Oh? Stop? But I'm just getting started, my friend. After she saw the sausages, she, of course, reached for her phone, and I knew then that there need not be any witnesses." I paused to watch the detective's face as the deepness of my words sank in.