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voice sounding like the cheery, fatherly man I had grown to know and

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

respect. "Well Jack the time has e for me to get gone" he said brightly.

car with a white starched shirt with French cuffs and a blue tie that set

face. I had a great w relationship with Old Man ell and this was

cold chill ran up my spine. "Jake e on in" Mr. ell offered, his

Friday's. When it was just ell we had dress down days on Friday's but

ge. Corporate policy dictated that we wore suits and ties, even on

fit to my body with expert tail. I 

off his eyes. The cufflinks on the shirt looked like some family crest.

The news hit me like a ton of bricks though I tried not to show it on my

like Mr. Withersby's. I am sure the material was nid would be properly

It was a Friday afternoon in early November. Mr. ell asked me into his

office. When I arrived, he was loading his personal effects into a box. A

o be early as I rode my bike and wore my bike leathers. I had my

By the time I returo my desk there anywide email explaining

Monday m was a new world. I arrived at work at my normal 7:45am. I

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great shape blah blah blah. I was depressed and fused.

never met the man but seeing his pictures on corporate unications sort

that Mr. ell was retiring blah blah blah and that the pany was in

now that it e dressed. I think part of the reason was that Mr.

I ged into my suit imagining what it would be like to go buy a suit

suit and tie ly packed in a bag and headed to the locker rooms to

His eyes betrayed some remorse and sadness.

fatherly pep talk before I left him to finish his pag.

of gave me that indication.

rugged looking guy with medium blond hair, ly shaven, with greenish

grey eyes. In his pictures he wore a dark suit that ore than my first

going to hurt. I sat and talked with Mr. ell and he gave me his normal