An Unexpected Interruption at Dusk
One evening, as the city beyond his office windows shifted from silver to amber, Robert remained at his desk long after the staff had gone home, staring at reports he no longer absorbed, when his executive assistant, Mrs. Caldwell, entered without her usual knock, her posture uncharacteristically uncertain.
“Mr. Mercer, there is a child downstairs who insists on seeing you, and I would not normally allow this, but he refuses to leave and says his message is meant for your son.”
Robert frowned, irritation rising instinctively, shaped by years of unsolicited advice and misplaced hope, yet something in her tone slowed his reply.
“A child is not an appointment, and I am not in the mood for stories tonight,” he said, though his words lacked their usual sharpness.
