“He had never been this late before.

            Elisabeth paced the cobblestones of Victoria Square, careful not to stray too far from the tightly-knit row of houses to her side. London was a hazy, dwindling ember of light at this time of the evening; the fog that encased her city was more than enough to conceal her from the crowd traveling home from work. The atmosphere, usually so comforting, did nothing for her hyperactive mind and disquieted nerves. Instead, the chill of the fog sunk deeper into her bones. Her heels clicked ominously on antiquated stone as her mind raced, and her heart leapt at every silhouette that grazed her skirts.

            Her thoughts flickered between anxiety and anger. She shifted from My God, I’m going to kill him when he shows his face to Oh, please, Lord, let him be alright and back again. This never should have happened: where was he?”