#69

they sat, one with his chin tilted down, staring across the table from under unkempt eyebrows, quiet, the muscles in his neck visibly flexed.
the other wore a listless expression, enhanced by polished round glasses. twitchy by nature, a well-moisterized hand holding a formal letterhead with a small serif typefont, he cleared his throat.
"we wish you luck in the future."
teeth clenched, he grabbed for the paper. it looked like the paper would be quickly smudged, but as he grasped it, his hands were stained, not dirty, making each crease, each fingerprint more pronounced, rough.
the small, office blue desk chair heaved a sigh as he stood, keeping his eyes straight forward.
the other began blinking quickly, nervous.
he crumpled the paper in one hand, threw it sideways. still looking at each other, they heard the swishing of the trash bag as it landed.