"What did I do to make the police knock on my door?

With vehemence, he searched for his diary on the worktable and reviewed the notes about what was relevant from previous days. Meanwhile, the voices rose in tone and so did the knocks and bell ringing.

"'Mr. Meldinoz, open up! We know you're home!'"

"'Just a moment, I'll be right there!' - He eagerly scanned the last written pages. Nothing out of the ordinary, so he straightened his bathrobe and headed to the door, not without first looking through the peephole, releasing the latch, and opening it halfway.

"'Good morning, Mr. Meldinoz, may we come in?'

"'Excuse me! Do you have any order against me?'"

"No, but there are many questions. May we come in?"

Gustav hesitated for a few moments, clutched his diary, and finally opened the door, making a gesture to head into the living room. The two police officers scrutinized the place with meticulousness and no pretenses.

"'Take a seat! Would you like some coffee?'

"No, thank you. We'll get straight to the point, Mr. Meldinoz. Where were you on Saturday night?"

He opened his blue compact diary and adjusted his glasses with his index finger, after seeing scribbles on white pages, replied that he was at home watching a movie streaming.

"'Mr. Meldinoz, let us see your diary.'

"'Of course!' - His face lit up, and a faint smile appeared."
Both officers looked at each other in bewilderment, unable to understand those signs.

"'What language is this written in?' one of them exclaimed.

"'In one that I created in my childhood to fight against progressive amnesia I suffer from.'"

"'You're taking us for fools! I remind you that with the police you don't play games!'"

"'No, no, no! If you want to call my doctor, and he'll corroborate what I'm telling you. In my diary, there's the phone number at the beginning, with my data. Tell me, what happened on Saturday? And what do I have to do with it?'"

There was a pause; the gentle hum of the integral air conditioning system took center stage in the blue room with minimalist and modern decorations, which seemed to play games with the scribbles imprinted in Gustav's diary.

"'Someone claims you stole the founder's statue from the main square.'"

"'If I did it, I don't remember!' - He asked for his diary again and searched through the scribbles. 'No, no. I didn't do it; I would have registered it here.'

"'Don't be impudent, tell me: who would register a crime and show it to the police?'"

Gustav looked at them indignantly and on the verge of losing control, pointed out that according to his diary, the founder of the town was one of his ancestors, whom he did not recognize due to his strange illness. He barely recognized himself, thanks to the scribbles created by him to safeguard his memories.

"'I may be forgetful, but a thief never! Do you have proof? I do; I have an internal video surveillance system to register my activities and help me make them more precise while building my memories in my writing system. Review it, please.'"

The higher-ranking officer operated the equipment, validating Gustav's version: there was Mr. Meldinoz, sitting in front of the intelligent TV, watching an old movie: The Maltese Falcon. Embarrassed, both officers apologized and left. In a small room filled with hundreds of diaries, the bust of the illustrious ancestor lay with pages with scribbles written on Sunday."