The Hunt Begins.

The familiar ticking pierces my ears as the clock whirls around above the doorframe, I sit and watch it whirl round and round for 3 cycles until my mind brings me back to the paperwork that dooms my late shift. The screeching of the rusty metal in my pen fills the air as I click to bring forth the tip. I bring the pen down to the freshly printed paper, determined not to have myself distracted again. The paperwork was a simple job that I was procrastinating about for too long, simply fill in my signature on a few pages and leave a few crosses dotted around.

I pick up the paper, still warm from the printer, scratching my chair across the hardened carpet as I get up. I march to the half-glass-door that had been left ajar by one of my colleagues, I slide through the small opening, only pushing the door a few more inches open. The LED lit corridor lined with boring white walls with unknown muck on them welcomes me back to the thrill of knowing I will return home soon. As I walk along the corridor, in somewhat of a trance, I stare at the sealing to see the usual duct tape scrawled across they grey tiles, holding the loose panels together.

I descend the small flight of 3 or 4 stairs to at last get to the counter. The lady behind the thick layer of glass smiles at me, her semi-circular glasses covering her almond eyes. I had barely enough time to analyse even her eyes before a sharp gust of wind, cold as a winters day, announced the entrance of a short woman, maybe 5’4 at best, came tumbling into our presence. She had dark chocolaty hair styled into a neat bun, with stray strands of hair wavering over her dark skin. Her deep grey eyes locked onto me and her thin, parched, lips uttered one line that shook me to my core:

“Where the fuck is Mario Judah?”