Richard sat on a marble bench inside the courtyard. A warm breeze ruffled the small trees surrounding him. He sat, back straight with his hat sitting on his knee. A dark walking stick leaned against his leg - a gift from his father when he was younger. Here and there little birds flitted through the slightly overgrown topiary, singing as they did. The entrance to the asylum loomed before him. The wings of the building spread out east and west, turning north so he couldn't see the ends of them. The massive, three story building sat on over forty acres of land.
"And what am I going to do with you?" He said out loud. A little finch landed in front of him. Its head ticked up to the left and then right as it regarded him with both eyes. It took off again when Richard didn't throw any crumbs for it. He could almost hear faint voices being carried over the wind but no sounds coming from the asylum itself. The clock on the central tower stood still at nearly 3:50. Whether morning or not, he didn't know. The building itself looked the worse for wear. By all accounts his father had been an able superintendent but an abysmal caretaker. Now he was off in the tropics, leaving Richard with the asylum and a small sum of money.