SO SORRY BAD NEWS [STOP] WE FOUND HIM [STOP] IT DOES NOT LOOK GOOD [STOP]
Yellow paper, just a single line that underlines our grief. Black letters cut us to the heart and tell us this is nothing. This has got to be the end. This has got to be the end. I repeat the words as though by saying it is over it will be. After all, if I say it three times, it must be true, right? This has got to be the end.
IT DOES NOT LOOK GOOD.
How bad ... how bad is 'not good'?