|Misplaced Pieces of Fate
It was a gray drizzling Monday morning, those type that make the sky a light mixture of gray and blue during the predawn hours, the sound of the rain could be heard tapping the windows and traversing the various storm drains with low, hollow, metallic sounding gurgles of water. The bluish gray light barely made it through the shutters and curtains but it was enough for the influence of the light to faintly touch the walls of the room. He sat at the edge of the bed with his face resting in his hands, a chiseled figure clad only in an opened dress shirt and dark gray slacks. CEO of the greatest enterprise of the west and billionaire, eligible bachelor and many other things that a man of stature would crave. Yet, something was wrong.
It was the same way yesterday, and the day before that, and so on up to a month ago. Running his hand over his face until only his dark eyes were uncovered, which trained on the digital clock on his stand that stared back with 7:08am. What could it be? He asked himself trying to pull out of the morning funk which held on tightly even after a cup of coffee. Finally pushing to his feet after a moment more of contemplation he ran his hands over the crisp white fabric of his shirt, before buttoning it up and reaching for his tie which hung over the shade of his lamp where he always placed the next tie of the day before going to bed.
"Your being ridiculous again," he told himself with an attempt to laugh at his own joke but it didn't shatter the drab almost mundane feeling he had deep down, it only softened it a little around the edges and made it easier to swallow. Retying his tie three separate times before getting the perfect look he was satisfied with, he then moved to his cuffs as he walked from across the room and passing the large salt water tank of colorful fish and corals before arriving at the mirror and looking in just as he snapped the final gold cufflink. "Your just stressed is all, you just need a little R&R after this is all said and done." again he felt no comfort in his second explanation to himself but he accepted it as best as possible and went on with the supposed answer a moment longer as he continued getting dress.
"Mister Daemonicus." A women said from the door with a gentle French accent to her femininely highlighted voice, she stood in the doorway of his bedroom with her blonde hair in a tight bun and her clothing a black dress suit, powder blue shirt and a almost transparent blue and black scarf about her neck. Her height had been raised by her moderately heeled boots. Primmed and professional in every way possible, she spoke on. "Your going to be late, Sir, if you don't quit your procrastination." Her voice held a small hint of humor causing her ruby red lips to form a small smile.
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written by Walter Mwasi Williams III