The Dude with Green eyes

Paul was pacing the station. It was midday but it felt so early; or maybe it was because he was so used to waking up at 3pm and falling asleep at 1am. He caught his reflection in a glass window. Thankfully he still looked young even though his thick black hair was streaked with lines of silver. His piercing green eyes looked greyer today, he mused. He walked towards a uninviting.yellow, plastic bench. He removed the crinkly old newspaper and sat down. The chair was cold and wet, but Paul didn’t seem to mind. He opened up the newspaper willing the time to speed up. He had a very important job offer waiting for him a few miles north.

Paul couldn’t wait to get back to doing photography again. It was just one of those things that he loved so dearly along with Italian food, the cinema and hotdogs with lashings of mustard. Of course it did seem out of the blue, infact Paul thought, just after he quit a job from the local Newspapers. But Paul didn’t believe in coincidences.

“Finally” he breathed out. The train had came. Paul and fifty other morbidly obese passengers loaded into the same train. In the same exit. So Paul was squashed by the time he finally got on the train.
When he did get off the train and out the station his breath was simply taken away. He really wanted his trusty camera, which was back in his flat, in his hand so he could savor the pictures he could be taking of London. At a distance he could see the London eye. He walked down the path that overlooked the Thames it was filled with tourists on boats. But Paul loved it. He leaned against a sculpture of a fish swimming and he grimaced. It felt slimy. It was about 1pm now and Paul was itching to go. He took in the sites before getting on a bus and making his way to the meeting.

Paul hated these chairs. To him it symbolized painful waiting. Then a man stepped out of the room, he was wearing a dark suit with a stripy tie. His face was large and imprinted with many wrinkles. His nose was sharp and crooked as if broken a long time ago. His eyes were slits filled with grey off colour stones. His lips were no where to be seen, instead a piece of string was fixed to his face and downward shaped. He radiated authority and anger. “Mr. Paul Thompson” his voice boomed like the Big Ben that chimed a few minutes ago. Paul got up and resisted the urge to stretch. He followed the quite intimidating man into his boardroom. On one side of the room there were floor to ceiling windows that overlooked canary wharf and the rest of London including the Thames he walked along earlier. The room was incredibly huge. A woman sat right to where the head of the table would sit. She was wearing a white and red blouse-no sleeves-and had ruffled frills at the chest downward. Her blouse was tucked into her black pencil skirt that stopped just above her knee. The rest of her legs were in tights and she wore shockingly red high heels. She was shorter than Paul, he realized, but not incredibly short. She looked up and smiled at him.

“Mr. Paul Thompson, I believe you are what this companies looking for. Should you wish to accept this job then you will be working on main articles of news.I explained the basics in the letters I sent you. But now you must say whether you want the job.”Paul immediately agreed. The man began to talk about how things would run in the company. But Paul wasn’t listening, because now his gaze shifted to the woman, he came across earlier, in the corner sipping coffee from the plastic cup and typing furiously on her laptop. He could see how long and thick her hair was and how glossy black it was.

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The Dude with Green eyes Paul was pacing the station. It was

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The Dude with Green eyes Paul was pacing the station. It was

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