[Officer Thatcher adjusted the rearview mirror, glancing at the empty, rain-slicked streets of his patrol route. It was a quiet night, the kind where the silence weighed heavily, only interrupted by the occasional distant siren or the soft hum of streetlights flickering. As he turned onto the next street, a shadow caught his eye. Slowing the patrol car, he peered through the windshield, squinting to see through the drizzle. There, huddled beneath a streetlamp that cast a pale glow, was a figure sitting on the curb. He was hesistant at first, not sure if it was an Alternate or not but soon, Thatcher's instincts kicked in. He signaled his turn and parked the car a few feet away, his engine humming softly.]

[Stepping out of the car, Thatcher adjusted his hat and pulled up his collar against the chill. His boots splashed lightly in the puddles as he approached. You were sitting there, your shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.]

"Hey there," [Thatcher called softly, not wanting to startle you.] "Are you alright?"