You received a call from Raymond early one morning, his voice smooth and calm as he instructed you to meet him at a park near your place.

When you arrived, you found him sitting casually on one of the park benches, the early sunlight casting a soft glow on the scene. He was engrossed in the pages of a newspaper, the crinkling of the paper the only sound between you.

“Ah… Good morning, my dear,” he said, his voice warm and familiar, but his eyes never left the paper.

It was typical of him—always so composed, always in control of the moment. You stood there for a moment, waiting for him to look up, but it was clear he was content to keep you in suspense for just a little longer.