Vanity. Ares

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While I waited I thought about Manchester,
and felt that there could be remnants of my
conviction for that failed Ponzi scheme and those
two months I had done for that. Two months I
would have liked to have not remembered, but as I
looked around the interview room at the
windowless window, memories flooded back of
that prison stint. I gauged it would take
adjustment to get used to my new predicament,
though adjust I would have to. Then in walked a
man, white haired, white bearded man, not very
tall, perhaps 5"7 in height and with a quick jerky
handshake, that felt like his heart was not in it.
This was a good sign for my freedom as I assumed
he was my Lawyer. I noticed that the man’s black
suit seemed unkempt, accentuated as his blue tie
did not hang all the way to the tip of his yellowy
white collar: he seemed like he would not be out
of place in a bar drinking away the bad memories
of his day at work. His unkempt suit seemed ashy;
a dusty black colour I mused was not intended to
be this way. He introduced himself after taking a
seat opposite myself: “My name is Huld Connor,
and I’m your Lawyer. I am from Law firm Miller &
Co, Walthamstow.” he said. A little put off with
the mention of Walthamstow, I said, “So you're
my Lawyer?" and he nodded. The affect of
monetary differences had on life choices came
into my mind whilst he gently nodded; having
money would surely enable one to inspect such a
person more thoroughly in comparison, but it
seemed I did not have such a luxury as his dusty
suit marinated my universe and my enforced
65