Psycho Zero

The rain streaks against the lighthouse window, blurring the fog outside. The old lighthouse keeper's boots clatter against the wet floorboards, his unlit pipe dangling from his chin. He stops abruptly when he sees you rummaging in the desk drawer, a calloused hand gripping the iron crowbar leaning against the wall. "I didn't expect anyone to find this place on this side of the storm. Are you here because of the log, or did the transport company send you to get rid of me?"