Man. Early thirties. Dark hair. Receding hairline. Stubbles. Leaving the table. A messy table. Messy table next to the closed fireplace. Table filled with papers, loose leafs, briefcases, pens in all colours. An old cup with a candle inside. A new cup with coffee. A milk jug. Salt and peber. A worn brown leatherjacket and a blue hoodie is hanging over the chair.
He is back. Yellow t’shirt. Blue jeans. Healthy. Welltrained – Not to much and not to litle. Strong. Red chicks. Red ears. Very serious. Nerveous. Sitting straight up in the chair, leaning back. Seems like he is having trouble breathing. Very blue eyes. Blue eyes filled with water. Is he about to cry? Or is he just very concentrated? Frowning. Hand in the hair. Hand on the forehead. Reading. Hand in the eye. Hand on the table. Looking for the right piece of paper. Hand around the head. Writing. Both hands in the hair. Moving his lips. Is he talkthinking? Turning the papers. Scratching his head. Saying something outloud. Throwing a stack of papers a side. Blowing out air. Leaning backwards. Closing his eyes. Reaching for his bag. Clears the table. Putting on the brown leatherjacket. He is leaving. I am following him.
I sincerely apologise for the hurry I am in to write this letter. It will be short although my thoughts are many. Fear not! I have found the handbook. We will soon know what to do. Meet me at Greyfriars tomorrow 11.59pm. Tell William to bring his weapons. I think I’m being followed!