(This is what a starter looks like)

Alice was peering through the glass windows of Cuppa Joe’s coffee shop. She was wondering whether or not to go for her second muffin of the day when she heard footsteps sounding behind her. Turning around, she smiled warmly and said, “Hi, I’m Alice.”

"Jim!" I squeal, "You forgot to tell me to put on my petticoat!"

Jim tenses on Edward's couch. Nygma is working, so I am free to act out. My brother waits for me to run over and beat him or berate him. Instead, I leap on to him and embrace him. He knows this means nothing, so he cringes.

Will had gone. He had left some time ago, in fact, but Hannibal could only bring himself to clean up the minutiae of disturbances in his office slowly.

A glass rinsed in the bathroom and set right again beneath his desk. Pencils were straightened and sharpened not unlike other tools in other drawers in other spaces. Books were pushed back into place with featherlight touches and the desk and tables wiped clean of any remaining debris from earlier patient visits.

Yes, William had left some time ago but Hannibal could not bring himself to end the day. The day was too much - a Christmas come early, he might akin the feeling to - it was a gift of magnitude and subtlety, of perseverance and dumb luck.

Will had encephalitis. The smell of the fever pitched beautifully from damp skin, the heat and moisture bringing the concoction to Hannibal’s talented nose quite easily.

As the psychiatrist finalized his cleaning regimen - chair pushed in, papers straightened - a smile played lightly around his lips.