“Take it, it’s a gift,” the little girl said, her blue eyes quivering.

That was the last piece of information stored in Davis's memory before falling on the floor.

After two days of coma, Davis finally woke up. His dark brown eyes were blinded by the heavenly brightness, a sense of numbness throughout his whole muscular body. While he was trying to figure out whether he was still dead or alive, a white, chubby man, wearing a baggy, grey coat appeared before him. The man glanced at the nurse and summoned her to leave the room.

"Morning Mr Straw, I’m Detective Polanski from the Orlando Police Department, how are you today?" Detective Polanski said.

Davis's eyes narrowed, trying to focus on the rounded, blurry figure in front of him.

"Whe-where am I?" Davis replied, his hissing voice masked by the respirator.
"AdventHealth hospital," Polanski answered.
“Wha-what happened?” Davis asked.
"You got shot, Mr Straw," Polanski replied. “The man who did it, Mr Smith, claimed that you were raping his granddaughter.”

The black man's face suddenly paled, anguish in his wet eyes. Davis, looking puzzled, was limply staring at the detective, his mind as blank as the walls of the clinic. Polanski sat on a chair next to Davis’s bed and took a picture out of his pocket.

“Does this refresh your mind at all?” Polanski asked.

Davis gazed at the photo for few seconds without uttering a word. The bulky, bearded man did not seem to be familiar, but his face lit up when seeing the girl’s eyes, as blue as the Atlantic Ocean. He suddenly remembered everything.

“I saved her…” Davis said softly.

Polanski promptly took his notepad out, starting to scribble away.

“I was waiting for the train to arrive when…”

The detective raised his head, eagerly waiting for Davis’s words to be spat out.

“…I noticed the kid playing with her doll…” Davis went on, “…she was alone…left the doll on the platform floor for a moment…a gust of wind swept it away, drifting it towards the track…”
Davis went abruptly quiet, his tired eyes closing.

“Shall I call the nurse back in?” Polanski asked.
“Chief…hold my hand and shut your eyes,” Davis said.

After hesitating for a moment, the detective leaned forward to grab Davis’ hand. It was cold and weak, yet Polanski felt immediately connected to the struggling man. As the detective reluctantly closed his curious eyes, he seemed to be watching a film playing in his mind. He could smell the intense aroma of black coffee in the air awakening his brain. The train was approaching, its wheels screeching while grinding to a halt. At the same time, Polanski saw the girl’s blonde curly hair whipped back by the wind while chasing her doll, oblivious of the incoming threat. The detective felt his legs throbbing as he run towards the kid. He reached out a black hand and seized the girl’s arm, dragging her back just before the train breezed past in front of them. The detective could see fear in the little girl’s innocent eyes. The man smiled at her, revealing his teeth, as white as an angel. The girl took off her rainbow, woollen hat and gave it to Polanski.

“Take it, it’s a gift,” the little girl said.

Gunfire loudly resonated into Polanski’s ears, brusquely interrupting his trance. He was drenched in sweat, looking at Davis in bewilderment.

“How did you do it? Where’s the trick?” Polanski asked.
“No tricks, just empathy transfer,” Davis replied.
“Empathy what? Polanski said.
“I shared my emotions with you…so you were able to live my story,” Davis said.

Although what Polanski had experienced felt incredibly real, his professional attitude demanded a proof.

“I’m afraid this isn’t enough,” Polanski said.
“Chief, check out my jacket’s pockets,” Davis said.

Polanski stood up and walked to the hanger. He searched through Davis’ leather jacket pockets and found a colourful hat. The detective froze for a second, recognising the little girl’s present. Then, he picked up his phone and dialled his department number.

“It’s Polanski, get me an arrest warrant for Mr Omar Smith,” Polanski said.