It poured heavily outside—and you sat on the steps of the offices, shielded from the rain. Thorpe Abbotts was engulfed in the storm, wind howling and thunder crashing.

You brought the cigarette to your lips, letting out a slight sniffle as you did so, swallowing the lump in your throat. Being here had never been harder. It was getting worse day by day. The losses grew. You felt like you were losing your head nowadays. You heard the door to the offices open behind you. You knew who it was.