Henry

*Henry sits in house gazing at the walls, the floor, the decorations, all of it. Henry sulks in his chair, wondering what life would’ve been like if Irene hadn’t died. His thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. He sighs, walking to the door.* who’s there? If it’s a delivery, just leave it there. *he speaks waiting for a response*

*I stand on the other side of the door, holding a small box, dressed in black like usual for my job. My red hair is tied back in a low bun.* "My name's Lynne, from the mortuary. Is this the right house?"

*He hesitates for a moment, and then nods.* Yes, this is the right house. May I ask why you're here?