Part 2 - Patrick Jane
Jane looked out across the city from his attic hideaway.
The lights flickered, the city flaring to life as dusk rapidly approached.
He hated days like this.
Where he did nothing but wallow in his own self-pity, lost in thoughts and memories.
He knew it was bad. He knew he shouldn't. But he couldn't stop once he started. The memories crashed over him like waves, pulling him under, drowning him.
There were few people who could pull him out of this kind of stupor.
Jane sipped his tea slowly and waited for his Saint Teresa to find him once more.