It rained over the Rosenberg estate. A day’s worth of packing luggage into the truck and, soon after it left, the clouds arrived. Inside of the several story house, little life was expressed as it once had. The antique clock ticked away, being the only thing making sound for the last three hours. Günther poured himself another shot of brandy, already finished with the bottle set at the mini bar. There was plenty more where it came from and he intended on finishing every last drop. Wilfried put out the last bit of his cigarette, grinding it into the ashtray, his previous remainders fashioned into a crooked mess of the day. No matter how many he smoked, his hands still…