[center][h1]Emil Günther[/h1]
Physical state: meticulously observing 
Mental state: bored[/center]

[color=39b54a][i]Too curious.[/i][/color] Emil couldn't help taking a glance at this professor as he went through what he couldn't call anything but desk trash of the late Atkins. [color=39b54a][i]Too secretive.[/i][/color] Papers, bills, notes, envelopes, coffee stains holding together parchments of planned lectures, pieces of old pens and new pens still whole, clips, a rusty coin or two falling out of the drawer and ringing on the floor. [color=39b54a][i]He's not telling me everything.[/i][/color] Emil picked up the coin that lay at his shoe, returned it into the drawer. Atkins's documents and desk smelled of old library shelves used only seldom, and of damp cold tomes that they hold.  [color=39b54a][i]g = 9.81 m/s^2[/i][/color] He pulled out the second drawer and realized the knob he grabbed broke and remained in his hand. [color=39b54a][i]Took a few seconds. Burst. Knobhead.[/i][/color] He put it on the table and started going through the contents of the desk. He felt as if he had opened the first drawer again, and wondered if Dr Steiner had a more divergent pile of rubbish to examine. What a boring office: heaps of nothing everywhere, everything containing nothing. 

He picked detached knob and shot it across the room like a marble. Thunnng. It hit the metal tray on the small cupboard near the window. A bird fluttered and flew away and he saw it through the dirty window. [color=00a651][i]Hollow bones. Unlike ours. They propel themselves high. Not even wax ones for Atkins.[/i][/color] Emil returned to the desk and slammed the open drawer shut, but the broken thing didn't hold and it fell on the floor and the bottom of it splintered. Underneath it, in a secret double bottom, something pale showed itself.

[color=0072bc]”Professor,”[/color] he said kneeling down, and [color=0072bc]”I've got something,”[/color] getting up. 

He shook the envelope to dust it off and blew on it to finish the job. It had no mark and no address was written on it -- a simple beige envelope, from a grocery store. But it bore a set of initials written large in purple cursive -- [color=92278f]F. D.[/color] -- preceded by a preposition [i]to[/i], in black.