preservationofnormalcy:

[The office is crowded when I make it in. A few dozen people in the waiting room of the simply-furnished building, weary eyed. Some waiting patiently, some not so patiently. As a slender man speaks tersely with a receptionist, I am unsure where to go. After I hesitate a moment, a man at the end of the desks waves at me. 

He is short, barely over five feet tall. He is bald on the top of his head, with bursts of frizzy hair on either side above his ears. His eyes inspect me from behind huge and thick glasses rimmed with a brassy metal, above a  brown corduroy suit with a green tie. When he speaks, he has a slight lisp and a heavy stammer.] 

F] Hello. Uh. Yes, h-hello madam. 

M] Ferdinand Mills? 

F] Yes. Yes, co-come here. May I have a word?

M] Yes, of course. 

F] I ch-choose the word, uh, ‘interview’. 

M] What? 

F] Nothing, nothing madam. Come, come.

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