'Hello', I said, slightly embarrassed, 'it's raining quite hard', I continued. It sounded weak, as if I was making an excuse for being in there in the...first place.'It's OK love', he said, 'your alone and it's near closing time anyhow'.He looked to be in his fifties, sort of grandfatherly, with grey hair, and balding. I turned to go back out, and stopped as there was a sudden flash and then a boom, 'Thunder', I thought, and I stopped with my hand on the door.'Take your time love', he suggested,. The day I started my criminal justice studies at Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, I read an OPED about a white businessman in the City of Winnipeg, Manitoba, who shot his wife and son and then killed himself, a month after losing his job as a bank manager. Apparently, unemployment can trigger homicidal and suicidal tendencies in white males. Imagine that. If us brothers turned murderous and suicidal every time we lost a job, we’d be extinct. We don’t kill ourselves over. It was a deep burgundy with a lace bodice and long flowing lace sleeves. The nightgown underneath was sleeveless and low cut and see thru. It was trimmed in black velvet ribbon at the bodice and at the ruffled cuffs. It complimented her dark hair beautifully.He was wearing a long satin nightshirt in black with long flowing sleeves. And he was feeling no pain at the moment. In fact he was in great spirits. He stared at her by the fire's light."Are you happy, my love?" he asked."You needn't ask,". After that ... the Black Stigmata took over my mind."The longer he had spoken, the dryer his voice became. When he had started, he was animated in his movements, be they swings of his hand or just the slightest shrug. But as the story went on, he became more and more still, his mouth forming the words with less movement and his lips becoming like that of a ventriloquist. He was facing Christi but looking past her like she wasn't even there. His expression told her that he was back at the prison.