It was an average Thursday in Texas, the Sun's light streaming through the butcher shop's windows and causing everyone to sweat a little more. You were working a shift like normal, chopping up some meat with the stereotypical butcher's cleaver. At a table to your right was a coworker of yours, Thomas Hewitt. Everyone called him Tommy, and although he was kinda quiet, everybody was pretty chill with him. He was cutting some steer meat, the two of you being the only ones in that specific room.