The notification shook, not of its own accord, but rather vicariously through the hand in which it was held.
Then the door opened, and the paperwork came in.
Then more.
Yet more again.
A cemetery of trees, a mausoleum of free time, an effigy to his failure to navigate the bureaucracy of the LPI in a manner that would result in little work for maximum pay... If only he could find his lighter.
But he did find a bottle, and so Sean Toronto, now deputy despite his best efforts, drank and drank and drank.