The death of Task, take one:
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"I don't want it anymore..."
A drop of rain escaped inside, shattered as it passed through the window. The cool mist landed and beaded in tiny droplets on the back of Task's neck.
Thunder rolled in the distance like sweet diminuendos played on a double bass. Annie looked up and rubbed her neck, and Task considered doing the same. Wind blew through the window which made the cold mist colder, and he considered closing the window. Task weighed the options, and just decided to rub his neck.
Annie got up, and pushed her chair back against the wall. She walked around the room, and picked up her things, and threw her corny native "inspired" bag over her shoulder.
"Well good luck with that." She nodded, and her straight blonde hair dodged in front of and behind her face.
Annie walked away and pulled her hair back behind her little round ear. When she opened the metal door, its creaks echoed through the little empty room, and it slammed close behind her.

I'll finish this later.