Tim never took off his confidence. He was always well dressed in it. It was almost as if it were his second skin. He wore it like one would wear a very expensive accessory, only that he never took it off:at least the world thinks that and Tim almost believes it’s indeed that way.
Trendy was his middle name. He rocked every Trendy look like it was birthed from his person. At 5’9, he considered himself short,but for whatever inches in height he felt he was short of, his confidence was his stilettos.
Head shaved bald,face decorated with well groomed adjoining moustache and beard streaming down from both cheeks. He was a true version of the #beardgang model. With structurally fine chiseled triceps and biceps in place, a crooked but charming smile, he was what Is now said, “a baby boy”.
As was custom, his confidence precedes and announces his presence like a stilettos would on a marble floor. Flushes, gushed and blushes prepared themselves to visit his female admirers as he stepped into the office building. He usually indulged them with his smile-that smile, and they all think, soon it will be my turn. To be picked, cooked and eaten, like beans but in his case, he eats them raw. He had a reputation and that was it.
Tim was careful, enough to only indulge the ladies at work with his smile and that only. As a member of the management board, he ensured office scandal be far off him as much as the north pole.
His confidence did a pretty good job of announcing his entry into the office that morning, one that he would wish he had reserved. His routinely entreê act in play:where the ladies flirtatiously salute him and his returning response a smile -that smile, was cut short just at the middle of the aisle by a voice he would recognize even in death.
The smile slowly thinned out, the first of many other things that would. Heading straight to him, north of the aisle, was the chairman of the company shadowed by a lady in black -all black.