He met him in the old building. A garish place, rebuilt after the war but never exactly how it was. John was his name. An older man wispy white hair and a slumped over slouch. Still even with these characteristics there was something young about him. He talked quick and asked questions.
They were dressed in formal wear. The others hadn’t arrived. John was telling the younger man that this room didn’t always used to be red. Or this read. He used this as a way to imply that this was really red. John told the younger man that there were emails about it. That they mixed up the cans of paint. The younger man asked if it could have been sort of a coat effect.
John looked at him confused. Like he didn’t understand if he was joking or not. He repeated that a lot of emails discussed it to make sure this new guy understood how sessions it was. John told him and that no one could hold meetings there any more.
They were dressed in formal wear. The others hadn’t arrived. John was telling the younger man that this room didn’t always used to be red. Or this read. He used this as a way to imply that this was really red. John told the younger man that there were emails about it. That they mixed up the cans of paint. The younger man asked if it could have been sort of a coat effect.
John looked at him confused. Like he didn’t understand if he was joking or not. He repeated that a lot of emails discussed it to make sure this new guy understood how sessions it was. John told him and that no one could hold meetings there any more.