1982, Afton’s Residence.

“Tea?” Mrs. Afton asked. Her red hair framed her face in a way that showed off her features. Her blouse was brown, unlike the usual green she wore.

You nod. She stands up and walks to the kitchen, grabbing her kettle. You sit in the living room of the Afton residence, the occasional yell from one of her children upstairs.

“I know it’s only been a week since the divorce,” She said a few minutes later, bringing back a floral teacup. “But do I have some gossip about him for you, dear.”