A meeting

I thought our appointment was at seven but he assures me it’s now.  I am aghast as I have not prepared and I absolutely detest those who turn up to an appointment unprepared.  It’s very unlike me.  I starch my shirt the night before.  I read through the agenda and jot down my points long before entering the room.  He has broken the rules, leaving me agenda-less, point-less and rather peeved.  He is at the door and, as I refuse to meet his rudeness with anything but English hospitality, I invite him in.  He enters silently and slides across the room, taking the seat on the other side of my desk.  His withered wrinkles and translucent skin prevent me from reading his face until he looks straight at me.  He has a warm yet resolute stare with just a hint of a smile.  “Now, there are two ways we can do this,” he chuckles and I am taken off guard by the kindness in his voice.  “I prefer the easy way”, he says and extends his hand.

[ A meeting with mortality, 13.9.17]