His office is spacious in the way affluent young men like it but settled in the way that shows his seniority. His secretary had assured her he was just a normal guy. He has a silver tie. Normal guys don't have silver ties - or a ceramic tea set in their offices.
She shuffles out of the doorway, pressing her back against the cream wallpaper. She's tiny in this corporate office.
"Ah, good morning," he says, deeper than she would expect of him. He clears his throat, and he sounds less scratchy. "Thank you for coming."
"It's no problem," she says with a smile. She takes a seat in front of his desk. In the two strides it takes her to get there, the man stores the files strewn over his desk into his side drawer.
She places her bag on the floor, next to the chair leg, swirling colours against the carpet.
He rests his hands on his desk. "You've been recommended to me by a friend. I do hope this isn't too short-notice."
She wrings her hands in his lap. "No, sir."
"Please, call me Alex."
"Alex," she repeats. She opts to lean back into the chair, resting her arms on the chair's side. "We'll be able to be prepared for the event if we decide upon the menu and other arrangements by next Tuesday."
Alex glances at his computer. Tuesday, he says under his breath. The nineteenth.
She reaches under and retrieves a small notebook from her bag. The cover is red and flimsy, the edges curled in its use. She'd have brought a more professional-looking notepad, but there was no time to pass by a dollar store. She flips through the notebook until the first page not filled with Urdu shorthand.
"Could I please borrow a pen?"
Alex eyes her notebook, but it isn't the usual look she gets, not one of pity or disdain. He pulls a company pen, seemingly from nowhere.
"You speak Hindi?" he asks as he hands it over to her.
She laughs, something a little lighter in her tone now. "Urdu. Do you speak it?"
"No, sadly." He leans forward, his arms settling on the table. "But my parents are Pakistani, so I understand things like hello and such."
"Oh, that's good." She poises the pen over paper. "So, Mr Wrexham, what would you like for your wedding?"
YOU ARE READING
'til the road and sky align
Short Story│i promised you many things when we were young. i want to make those true. Somewhere in between falling out of love, and falling back in love, Max meets Yale in the middle. │title from angela by the lumineers │story not in lowercase │a series of vi...
