Click. Click. Click. Went the soles of mister Andola's black leather shoes. Click. Click. Click. With finality that sent up the spine, his purposeful walk just as eerie as the satin-lined box they placed you in when you died.
Click. Click- the footsteps stopped abruptly as the hard-faced man slid open a drawer in a cabinet that went all the way to the high, high ceiling. Shreeeeeeeeeeeik; cried the steel at being forced open again after so many years. Too many years.
The thick, black manila folder in his pale hand was slipped into the appropriate space inside the drawer, and the steel did not protest again as the existence of one Saint Sabrina was erased forever.