The river pulled slowly at the branch hanging down into it. "What do you think?" Joe, a seedy old man with eyes of silver and a face that reveled in the opportunity to corrupt the soul of the young man who stood before him. "Well, I do think it's a river." Charles was standing in jeans and a dress shirt, trying his best not to succumb to the old man, whose eyes were pressing him to elaborate. "Well on the surface," Continued Joe, in his tie and suit, "it is calm, but underneath there is a circle of life and death, this you must realize." "Yes. And what does that mean?" Charles said, still doing his best to feign ignorance. The old mans eyes said everything. "You killed him didn't you? You killed Frank Simmons." Charles was now bearing deep into the mans soul, with his eyes alone. "I only meant to scare him away. I never meant to... It had to be done."
"And so did this" Charles said clicking the tape recorder off and raising his gun to chest level.
The river pulled slowly on the old man, for several days until he was found, with his confession.