It was a clear and bright Saturday morning in California. Russ Grossman woke up from his slumber in a bit of a fog as if there was something special in his veins. His nostrils were caressed with the scent of strawberries and a hint of cherry. It resembled a perfume his wife always wore, Violet Mist. There is a smile that is somewhat permanently painted onto his face; the first in a very long time. Ever since coming to Los Angeles, he always seemed to be in a funk. He thought it was the fact that he wasn't exactly happy in multiple parts of his life. There were things at the accounting firm that weren't quite ideal and the homesickness he suppressed was beginning to creep back into his heart. The only thing he could bring himself to focus on was the the lack if seven foot snow currently taking over Boston where his old home still resided. They moved because his wife, Annina Grossman was diagnosed with stage 2 lung cancer after a spout of debilitating coughs that graduated into full pools of blood, ridden mucus. The best doctors in the country worked a miles from their new home, and Russ focused on was his wife's health. Her chemotherapy sessions began in the coming days and he was growing more anxious each day.