The day was not rainy. No thunderheads filled the sky, and Byron didn't see a single crow on the way to the prison. Nor was it a sunny day, filled with birdsong and children skipping rope. 

At least the latter would have a degree of irony, Byron thought to himself. But no, it was an average day, slightly overcast, neither hot nor cold, and any children that would be jumping rope were probably inside playing Fortnight on their computers. 

Whoever's writing this isn't doing an excellent job setting the scene. Byron's thoughts wander again. No symbolic weather, no foreshadowing, not even the radio is being ominous. It's just playing the same twenty classic rock songs it always played. 

Byron pulled his car into the lot, making sure his visitor's pass was clearly visible behind his windshield. The last thing he needed was to get in trouble before he did anything that would get him in trouble. 


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