Morning came and Roman lay on the couch, asleep. He had drunk. Cursed. Burned papers and seen things he didn’t know were real or not.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. But he didn’t hear it.

By the third ring, Roman sat up, dragging a hand down his face.

He picked up the landline.

“Hello.”

“Good morning sir.” Davin’s voice came through the phone, crisp and professional.

Roman didn’t waste any time, “Get here, now.” He demanded.

In what seemed like seconds, Davin knocked on the door, and Roman opened it sharply. His eyes were red in frustration.

Davin stood there in his usual black suit, tablet in hand, face unreadable....