The following morning dawned much like any other for Felzein, save for one notable difference.
From this day forth, and for the entirety of the coming month, he was to be on full leave.
No patients awaited him, no pressing duties clouded his mind.
True to his habitual routine, he rose with the first light and made his way to the garden at the rear of his home, ready to engage in his daily exercise.
Felzein had a penchant for rigorous physical exertion, running, calisthenics, and the like.
Unbeknownst to him, this steadfast discipline had wrought a transformation upon his physique.
His muscles now lay firm beneath his skin; his chest broadened with a commanding presence, and a sculpted six-pack adorned his abdomen.
After a sustained hour of toil, he finally allowed himself a moment's respite.
No sooner had he begun to steady his breathing than his phone began to tremble upon the table, the sound cutting crisply through the cool morning air.
Glancing down, Felzein's brow knit in slight perplexity as he beheld the name upon the screen, Mrs Atun.
A long-standing employee of his humble grocery establishment.
"What could be the matter, Mrs Atun, ringing at such an ungodly hour?" Felzein murmured to himself.
Without a second thought, he slid the green button across the screen and answered the call.
"Salamu aleykom, Mrs Atun," he intoned calmly.
"Aleykom assalam, Mr Fel," came the reply, tinged with unmistakable alarm. "Where are you at this moment, Mr Fel?"
"I'm at home, Mrs Atun. What's happened? You sound quite distressed," Felzein inquired, a furrow creasing his brow.
"Our shop has been burgled, Mr!" Mrs Atun blurted out, her voice trembling with urgency.
Felzein's heart skipped a beat, "Robbed?! Pray, do explain, Mrs Atun!"
"Yes, Mr. It would be best if you came straight away," she urged, breathless. "I'll fill you in when you arrive."
"Very well, Mrs Atun. I shall be there shortly," Felzein replied, resolute.
He sprang to his feet, the weariness from his morning exertions vanishing as if swept away by a sudden storm.
His mind raced, his humble grocery store had been invaded?
A torrent of anxious thoughts surged through him as he hastened to prepare.
Without delay, he stepped back into the house, seized his motorbike keys, and hurried outside.
After locking the front door with a decisive click, he mounted the motorbike, started the engine, and sped off in the direction of his provisions shop.
The cool morning air rushed past him, but it did little to soothe the storm brewing in his thoughts.
Who would dare to break into his shop? Had anyone been hurt? Was it merely theft or something more?
Felzein's hands gripped the handlebars more tightly than usual.
The roads, still quiet at that early hour, seemed almost indifferent to the urgency that pulsed through him.
But in his mind, questions and scenarios collided relentlessly.
As he approached the shop, the sight of a small gathering outside sent his heart racing faster.
A handful of neighbours stood murmuring amongst themselves, casting occasional glances at the shopfront, which bore the unmistakable signs of intrusion.
He parked quickly and strode forward, eyes sharp and searching. Near the entrance stood Mrs Atun, her expression one of worry and fatigue.
"Mr Fel!" she called out the moment she saw him.
"What's happened?" he asked tersely, his gaze sweeping across the scene.
The metal shutter was half-lifted, and beyond it, the interior lay in disarray, shelves knocked askew, stock scattered haphazardly.
Mrs Atun inhaled slowly, steadying herself, "When I arrived just before dawn, the door was already open. At first, I thought perhaps you'd come in early. But when I stepped inside…" Her voice wavered.
"Everything was overturned. The till had been forced open. The cash, gone."
Felzein's jaw tightened, "Have you looked at the CCTV?"
"I tried, sir," she replied. "But the monitor was dead. It looks like they've tampered with it, perhaps even destroyed the system."
He exhaled sharply, his frustration simmering beneath the surface, "And aside from the money, what else?"
She swallowed, "Quite a bit, I'm afraid. Five cartons of cigarettes. Several boxes of cooking oil. Two sacks of rice, fifty kilos each. And a number of higher-priced items as well."
Felzein stared into the shop, a cold suspicion gnawing at him. Something about the whole affair felt too deliberate, too calculated.
And he had the uneasy feeling that this was only the beginning.
From amidst the murmuring crowd, a man stepped forward, "Mr Fel," he said, his voice low but urgent.
"I saw two blokes on a motorbike passing back and forth in front of the shop around two in the morning. Looked dodgy to me."
Felzein turned sharply, "Did you see their faces?"
The man shook his head, "It was too dark, sir. They both had helmets and jackets on. But one of the bikes, I'm fairly certain, was a red Vario."
Felzein absorbed the detail with quiet focus. A small clue, perhaps, but a start nonetheless.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, "Mrs Atun, we ought to report this to the police immediately."
She gave a brisk nod, "Yes, sir. We mustn't let them get away with it."
Felzein began typing a message, "Heru, are you available to meet? My shop's just been burgled."
Heru, an old friend, was a crime reporter for a local publication. If anyone could unearth information faster than the police, it was him.
Once the message was sent, he slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned to Mrs Atun once more.
"Let's go," he said, his voice steady.
She nodded again, though worry lingered in her eyes, "Yes, Mr Fel. Let's find out who did this."
He started the motorbike and motioned for her to climb on behind him.
Without delay, they sped off towards the police station, the morning wind brushing against their faces.
Throughout the journey, Felzein struggled to steady the tempest within him. Anger simmered in his chest, but he knew he had to remain composed.
The shop might have been a humble side business, but to those who worked under him, it was a lifeline, and for their sake, he would see this through.
The moment they arrived at the police station, Felzein stepped inside with Mrs Atun close behind.
The reception area was abuzz with quiet tension, citizens sat scattered about, each bearing their own grievances, awaiting their turn to speak.
Behind the counter, officers moved briskly, juggling paperwork and hushed conversations.
A uniformed constable approached with calm authority.
"Good morning. How may we assist you?" he asked, his tone measured and professional.
Felzein offered a polite nod, "I'd like to report a burglary. My provisions shop was broken into at dawn."
Without delay, the constable directed them towards the reporting desk, where a more senior officer, his name badge gleaming Sergeant Bowo, was seated with a ledger open and pen poised.
"Very well. Could you recount the events in order?" he inquired, his eyes steady.
Mrs Atun inhaled slowly, gathering herself, "I arrived at the shop around five o'clock, sir. The rolling shutter was already halfway up."
"I assumed Mr Felzein had arrived before me, but as soon as I stepped in, I saw the shelves in disarray, the till forced open, and the money was gone."
Felzein added gravely, "The surveillance system had been tampered with. The cameras were no longer functioning, it's likely the culprits disabled them."
Sergeant Bowo nodded as he wrote, "And the items stolen?"
"Five cartons of cigarettes, several boxes of cooking oil, two fifty-kilo sacks of rice, and a few other high-value goods," Mrs Atun replied, her voice trembling slightly.
Felzein leaned in, his expression resolute, "A local resident saw two individuals loitering on a red Vario motorbike around two in the morning, helmets on, jackets zipped up. Suspicious behaviour."
The sergeant glanced up, his interest piqued, "That could prove valuable. We'll check whether similar reports have surfaced nearby."
He turned to his colleague, "Rudi! Cross-reference this with the week's thefts. See if there's a pattern."
Officer Rudi tapped swiftly at his keyboard. Moments later, he nodded.
"There are three recent incidents, sir. All neighbourhood grocers. Same method, CCTV systems disabled, cash drawers emptied, shelves stripped of cigarettes and basic provisions."
Felzein's jaw tightened, "So this may be part of a larger spree?"
Sergeant Bowo gave a slow, deliberate nod, "It would seem so. Possibly a coordinated effort by an organised group."
He closed his notebook and looked directly at Felzein, "We'll begin our enquiries immediately. In the meantime, if you could provide the damaged CCTV equipment, our technicians may still recover some data from it."
"I'll bring it in shortly," Felzein said, his voice steady.
Sergeant Bowo rose and extended a firm hand, "Thank you for coming forward. Rest assured, we'll do all we can to bring the perpetrators to justice."