Could you please…7?”

Bang.

His camera lay in shards at his feet. He looked up at Tyrone, who had risen to his feet, the words died in his throat.

Expressionless, Tyrone retrieved a business card from his pocket, tossing it dismissively to the floor. “How much is it? Get in touch with my secretary.”

Larry swiftly joined him, a reassuring hand on Tyrone’s shoulder, Larry, upon ending the call, found Tyrone seated solitary on a nearby chair, his vacant stare cast forward, rigid as a gravestone.

Larry approached, laying a comforting hand on Tyrone’s shoulder.

“Tyrone.”

his stupor, Tyrone met Larry’s anxious gaze and managed to croak

just needed time to gather

was much like

no memory of his mother, nor

were of a life

they

“Do we tell Sabrina?”

of miscarrying before. The shock

well aware that this magnitude of event couldn’t be kept

“Understood.”

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