Chapter 1 Joy Ferguson 11B
Charles Hamilton sat in his office chair gazing out his office chair window. A dull blanket of grey covered the sky. He looked out at all the different people scurrying like mice to get to work in time for 9am. His eyes no longer sparkled, his blonde locks no longer shined. Charles himself had never been home the previous night. His fiancée had been calling him but he ignored the buzzing sound that had been giving him a headache for the last twelve hours. It was four weeks before the wedding to the woman he didn't even love.
Charles walked out of his office, head high in the air. He couldn't let his colleagues see he was upset. He reached the coffee machine. He poured himself a large cup. He was wondering what to tell his fiancée, when he dropped his cup. The coffee went everywhere. He was about to go and get one of those cleaners he always seen walking around: - face caked with orange make up, fag hanging out of their mouth, wandering around pretending to work. Then he noticed a small frail blonde woman already cleaning his spilt coffee. He reached down to help her, his hand brushed against her knee and she glanced up at him with her bright blue eyes. He looked at her wondering whether she had one of those name tag things but she didn't.
Charles Hamilton sat in his office chair gazing out his office chair window. A dull blanket of grey covered the sky. He looked out at all the different people scurrying like mice to get to work in time for 9am. His eyes no longer sparkled, his blonde locks no longer shined. Charles himself had never been home the previous night. His fiancée had been calling him but he ignored the buzzing sound that had been giving him a headache for the last twelve hours. It was four weeks before the wedding to the woman he didn't even love.
Charles walked out of his office, head high in the air. He couldn't let his colleagues see he was upset. He reached the coffee machine. He poured himself a large cup. He was wondering what to tell his fiancée, when he dropped his cup. The coffee went everywhere. He was about to go and get one of those cleaners he always seen walking around: - face caked with orange make up, fag hanging out of their mouth, wandering around pretending to work. Then he noticed a small frail blonde woman already cleaning his spilt coffee. He reached down to help her, his hand brushed against her knee and she glanced up at him with her bright blue eyes. He looked at her wondering whether she had one of those name tag things but she didn't.
