The same old taste of burnt coffee brung a sense of morbid comfort, as he enjoyed this same drink every night after a long shift at the morgue. Something felt wrong about it this time. The bitterness just wasn’t holding him in his chair. He had to go home.

Without even paying for his half empty cup he scurried out the door of the diner and made his way back to the apartment building he so unfortunately called home.

He just had to check his blog. He had big plans coming soon and he needed to be thorough with his following. As the elevator door made its slow crawl shut, a disheveled individual soaked in rain barreled through the door slinging apologies left and right.

Great. Just what he needed.

His eyes scanned over the drenched trench coat with cautious eyes in case he needed to move. The last thing he wanted tonight was to get wet after avoiding the rain the last six blocks back here.