by Sparks In Shadow
I was there before the others, unyielding, brooking huffs and “excuse me”s like a stone. Inhaling his adrenalized aura as he stood in that echoing hallway searching for his name, would be worth any derision.
A vein in his neck pulsed as he glided closer to the notice, eyes scanning the list.
Recognition swept over him. Glimpsing me for a second, grinning, he swept back his hair and turned to grace the outside world.
Why did I pick the bagpipes? Only they and the glockenspiel were left. I could’ve bailed, but he’d walked by, smelling of Snickers, pheromones and laundry soap.
He played guitar, too.
The prompt was, “Why did I pick the bagpipes?” – from Tony Powers.