A repetitive sharp shriek of a phone alarm awoke Harris from his sleep. He half -opened his eyes in a dreary semi-conscious state and reached for his phone to silence the piercing shrill of his wake up callringtone. Harris sat up in bed and wiped his hand across his forehead, pulling it down on his face almost to try and unpeel his eyelids from each other. Harris looked over to his right and to see his beautiful wife laying peacefully next to him. Harris watched Mandy lovingly as she slept, as she breathed so gently and looking completely content in her relaxed state. Harris, cautiously brushed Mandy’s hair away from her right eye, being careful not to wake her. Harris smiled to himself thinking about how fortunate he iwas to have found someone so special and that they could be so happy together fifteen years on. He looked at his phone to check the time, 06:09. He shut his eyes as tight as he could and pinched the top of his nose, as though he wasere pressing his personal reset button, and gently got out of bed.

After taking a shower and getting dressed for another day of cases and files, meetings and tribunals, and phone calls and emails, Harris made his way downstairs to the kitchen. Harris lived in a two -floor apartment, 109 Grove Court on Drayton Gardens, Chelsea. The building had a gracefully -structured, red -bricked, terraced architecture, accentuated with pure white partitions contrasting the deep auburn brickwork on each level. On the exterior of the building, each apartment floor had tastefully crafted cast iron fence balconies, coated in a smooth black veneer. The bay windows of each apartment were slender and neatly fitted between equal lengths of the apartment. The curvature of the bay windows was more of a work of art than a simple design feature. The front door of the building was more modern than the rest of the continental traditionalist style of the construction, but was tucked delicately within the cavity of the bright white doorway. The finishing touch of the construction of the quintessential middle class living facility was a wonderful and classically dressed doorman, with a navy trench coat that suspended a perfect inch from the ground and a crisp neat hat.

For breakfast, Harris made himself his usual meal of porridge oats with blackberries and honey, a slice of wheat grain toast, and a decent strength macchiato. Whilst eating his breakfast, Harris did the familiar task of sorting through the pile of envelopes that had collected from the previous day's post. The pile often consisted of the same old things, such as;: water bill, electricity bill, internet bill, pleas from local charities, takeaway menus, and his favourite, council tax. But on this day, there was one letter that did not fit in with the usual postage routine. Harris inspected the envelope, it was small and, white, and rectangular in shape, envelope. On appearance, there didn’t seem much wrong with the out -of -place letter, but Harris had an ominous feeling about what was inside.

For a moment, Harris held the envelope between his index finger and thumb, for a moment, before putting it to the back of the pile.