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of gave me that indication.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes betrayed some remorse and sadness.

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

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

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

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

Withersby was a London high born and was used to British class crap. I

fit to my body with expert tail. I 

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

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

From his picture Mr. Charles Withersby was a handsome professional man. A

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

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

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

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

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

By the time I returo my desk there anywide email explaining

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

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

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

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

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