17.05 — Sashenka’s police station.

As you strolled home, your thoughts drifted, and soft mumblings slipped from your lips, mingling with the rustling of the leaves. Papers clutched in your hand fluttered slightly in the gentle afternoon breeze, which caressed your skin and brought a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the day. Lost in thoughts, you accidentally bumped into a gentleman, who is a police officer sitting on the stairs, looking for his Chesterfield.