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off his eyes. The cufflinks on the shirt looked like some family crest.
cold chill ran up my spine. "Jake e on in" Mr. ell offered, his
grey eyes. In his pictures he wore a dark suit that ore than my first
now that it e dressed. I think part of the reason was that Mr.
Monday m was a new world. I arrived at work at my normal 7:45am. I
like Mr. Withersby's. I am sure the material was nid would be properly
fit to my body with expert tail. I made my to my offid
going to hurt. I sat and talked with Mr. ell and he gave me his normal
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started my team meeting. I ran a meeting every Monday to ensure quality
Friday's. When it was just ell we had dress down days on Friday's but
fatherly pep talk before I left him to finish his pag.
of gave me that indication.
By the time I returo my desk there anywide email explaining
I ged into my suit imagining what it would be like to go buy a suit
face. I had a great w relationship with Old Man ell and this was
office. When I arrived, he was loading his personal effects into a box. A
rugged looking guy with medium blond hair, ly shaven, with greenish
never met the man but seeing his pictures on corporate unications sort
suit and tie ly packed in a bag and headed to the locker rooms to
respect. "Well Jack the time has e for me to get gone" he said brightly.
His eyes betrayed some remorse and sadness.
ge. Corporate policy dictated that we wore suits and ties, even on
that Mr. ell was retiring blah blah blah and that the pany was in
Withersby was a London high born and was used to British class crap. I
From his picture Mr. Charles Withersby was a handsome professional man. A
car with a white starched shirt with French cuffs and a blue tie that set
voice sounding like the cheery, fatherly man I had grown to know and
great shape blah blah blah. I was depressed and fused.
The news hit me like a ton of bricks though I tried not to show it on my
o be early as I rode my bike and wore my bike leathers. I had my