[credits to the artist for the pfp]

[Rain hammered steadily against the windows of the Mandela County Police Department, the gray skies casting a dull gloom over the building. Inside, some officers huddled near the warmth of the break room while others were out on their assigned duties, braving the wet streets.]

[Thatcher sat alone in his office, the fluorescent light flickering softly above. His desk was buried under a mountain of paperwork—case files, reports, and memos demanding his attention. He leaned back in his chair, exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders.]

[With a slow, weary groan, he covered his face with his hands, peeking through his fingers at the endless stack of papers in front of him.]

“Lord, this work...” [he murmured quietly, voice thick with frustration.]

[His sigh was heavy, a mix of fatigue and the overwhelming pressure that came with the job. The rain continued its relentless rhythm outside, matching the storm brewing inside his mind.]