I was late for work. Again. I work at a café in the local street, next to the train station. Nothing special. It is a chain store, so there is no friendliness throughout. Just grumpy men and woman serving up sludgy coffee to business men. I threw on my apron and shoes, and tripped out of the door. "You ok there?" A voice called. I looked up, red in the face, embarrassed. The stranger was tall, lanky, and had raven hair flopped across his face. His eyes were a deep blue and his smile... well... he was grinning at me. "I'm fine. I'm fine." I cringed. "So I'm guessing you are now officially my next door neighbour?" I asked, noticing that he had boxes piled around his front garden. "Yep." He replied. Reaching his hand over the fence, he said politely "My name is Phil... and you are?" "Dan." I shook his hand, he had a firm grip, though seemed a little nervous. "Welcome to the neighbourhood." I grinned back, and made my way swiftly to the café. My boss was not happy. Well.. he is no longer my boss. He fired me within two minutes of me entering the building, and I was happy to throw my apron on the floor by his feet. When I returned, Phil was still outside his house. "You weren't gone long.." He started, then he saw my face. "Aah.. fired.. I guess..?" He asked awkwardly, and I did not need to reply. He struggled with one of his boxes, so I jumped over the fence to give him a hand. He was grateful, and showed me around. "You have a very big house, all by yourself." He commented, gesturing at my house, through the window. "Yes. I suppose I do." I said slowly, trying my hardest not to break down into tears. "It was my grandfathers." A silent tear rolled down my cheek, and I used the back of my hand to wipe it away. Phil apologised, awkward once more. "I should have thought... I should have thought before I said anything." He stood there, not knowing what to say. "No worries." I said, pretending to be as careless as possible. Not that it worked anyhow. I helped him unpack all his things, and I returned back to my house. I pondered over whether I seemed a little too eager, whether he noticed something was wrong. I brushed it off, thinking that I might just be edgy. For the rest of the day, I sorted through my grandfather's letters to me. By the end, I had sorted them all into two piles. It was easy really, as one pile contained masses, and the other had one. The one letter was the last letter, the letter with the most meaning, where it was all explained. I took the other pile outside, and set them alight one by one. This way I could fulfill my grandfather's dying wish, that no one else would find out other than me. After they were all reduced to ashes, I realised something. There was another person, more than one perhaps, that knew. The person who killed him. I ran back inside, picking up the box full of all his documents and photos, I headed to the lounge. I needed to find out who it was. Sorting through everything, I found that, other than my nan, who could be ruled out as she died before my grandfather did, there was one recurring figure. A man. With black hair, he was tall and lanky looking. And, in the colour photos, he had deep blue eyes. Just like Phil's.