There’s been a murder!

There’s also nothing else but this repost from my Instagram (@jari_1995).

A heavy silence filled the train car.

The doctor, in a coat so starched it threatened to dent the seats, straightened it even further. “I may say that hallucinations and delusions are positively parasitic, for they are bad for the health, but let it never be said I denounced all flights of fantasy. I have read in the study the merits of an unrestricted heart, and–”

Across the doctor, the dancer slowly put down a cup of tea. “My steps may be exact but my vision is not. Oh, doctor, what do I do? My whole trade is inspired by the levity of my feet, the buoyancy of my dreams!”

A loud scoff sounded from the bar, where the mayor stood with an early martini. “I have no patience for hysterics. Bailey [the mayor’s assistant], tell them I am guiltless. Did they not see how skilfully I won the last elections? Let us be done with it!”

The professor, who had first been vocal and then later silent, continued to sleep on unmarked essays. The papers suggest the work had been especially uninspiring and tiring.

The inspector despaired, sighed, and looked out of the page– and straight through to you.

Who killed Creativity?