Mike stepped into the ornate house apprehensively. He acknowledged the familiar sight of the men in dark suits and the hint of cold metal tucked into their jackets. He wondered if he had been careless, reckless. Pushed the boundaries too far this time. There was no real way to tell. He sat now in front of his boss Tony, as unreadable as ever. Tony spoke in low, deep tones but Mike’s mind wandered. He was usually thinking too much to notice things. But tonight he took in the majesty of the room – the tall burgundy shelves lined on each side, the heavy oak desk, Italian leather armchairs. The room was dimly lit, and he now turned his attention back to Tony. Tony seemed upset, but Mike couldn’t seem to understand why. The clarity of his observation seemed to come from another world as he struggled to make out Tony’s words from a cloud of haze. A sharp pain forced him to look at the floor, and suddenly it was up close. He felt paralyzed and watched as a dark puddle seeped into the blood-red floor next to him, the colors blending, slightly contrasting. He struggled to understand, but now the image was fading fast, red swirling into black, fading into darkness.