Shoulder bag.

The cold air in the blue tiled room seemed almost palpable. The light from the fluorescent lights reflected off the wet floor, making the space even more sterile, almost cold. The atmosphere was tense, as if the room was carrying the weight of an event that had just taken place, something that was not immediately comprehensible but felt undeniably important. In the middle of the room stood a sturdy stainless steel table. On it rested a glass basin filled with clear water. In the water, right in the middle, floated a small yellow shoulder bag. It was clearly not an everyday accessory: it was delicate, finished with gold stitching and studded with small, glittering diamonds. It seemed almost unreal, almost as if it were a showpiece in an art gallery. On either side of the table stood a man and a woman. Both were dressed in neat office outfits, their wet hair and soaked clothes sticking to their bodies. They seemed unfazed by their soaked state and stared determinedly at the bag in the basin. Their gazes, concentrated and intense, told a story of bewilderment and focus. They did not move, as if frozen in time, caught in a moment that had completely overwhelmed them.

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