the year was 1942. with the world in shambles after the world broke out into world war, things changed. more people were in poverty, more bombings were happening… but people got by the best they could.

Paul, sitting at his desk in the London press building, typed diligently at his typewriter. he knew he was skilled for his age, twenty. and he was working towards a promotion. lifting a cup of tea to his lips, he glanced at the clock. 8:14. he chuckled to himself. his work rival was late apparently, the woman who also wanted that promotion.