He sat at his desk, with a mug of water slightly to his right.
Comfortably resting in his large black armchair.
The dim fluorescent lights splashing shadows across his face.
The computer hummed gently, the pixels pulsated ever so softly.
There was a small puddle next to the mug,
The thick crimson blotting out the mahogany streaks.

He groaned slightly,
One of his hands still grasping the phone.

They hurried up to the door, running with muffled footsteps.
They glanced briefly at the name in the gold plaque,
then kicked the door down.

His head was tilted slightly to the left,
The crisp white shirt with stripes
Dirtied red.
They scanned the room,
they checked his pulse,
And shook their heads.