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Summary
My perception of the game, the characters, and how they gradually grow attached to each other, developing all that mutual longing and emotional turmoil. I don't know what else to write here, I'm just having fun.
The air in the lobby was thick with the stale smell of cheap coffee, paper dust, and that particular brand of soul-crushing office ennui. Leon stepped outside. A fine, misty rain was falling. He loaded the boxes onto the back seat of the Mustang, slid behind the wheel, and then just sat there for a moment, staring at the grey walls of the building. Hovering before his eyes were those green eyes behind glasses and that frightened face. "Grace Ashcroft," he repeated to himself. Just a name. Just a random encounter. He had a lot of work waiting for him. He started the engine and pulled out of the lot, carrying away with him not only boxes of files documenting death, but also a vague, inexplicable feeling that today, he had seen something important. Something that, maybe, was connected to this whole case. Or maybe it was just the fatigue playing tricks on him, making him look for connections where there were none.
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Bookmark Notes:
Ch 39
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