Ryan Hennessy

The Estate

The room may have smelled of the elderly but this man couldn’t have been more than forty. His dark brown hair didn’t reveal any grey, and with that amount of stubble on his face, there’s no way he was vain enough to be dyeing it. Plus he didn’t wear glasses. Wasn’t it a requirement for all chubby, middle-aged, small-time lawyers in little downtown offices to wear glasses? If not for reading, at least to look knowledgeable for their clients, Avery thought. Avery was sitting there uncomfortably in a wooden chair that was designed to appear distinguished. The wobbles of the chair, however, told Avery a different story of how this, no doubt, online-degree legal practitioner probably put the chair together himself to save a few bucks. Or, judging by James’ Santa Clause-like frame, maybe he just liked the meatballs at Ikea. Avery often became judgmental when he didn’t want to be somewhere.