C92 Ninety two

Tristan's fingers danced across the keyboard in the dimly lit pack house office, the hum soft in the background. Suddenly, the tranquil air shattered as the thunderous noise of running feet echoed from the nearby field. He sighed, his attention disrupted by the unwelcome commotion, reaffirming his disdain for working in the pack house office.

Just then, a soft chime emanated from his phone