My boss comes into the staff room. He walks straight over to me. The low evening sun reflects off his head giving him a blinding, lopsided halo. I squint up at him, screwing my eyes up against the glare. I cannot see his face; his scalp is shining so much it is like he has a small head-sized sun where his head should be. He is talking and I cannot understand him. Nothing at all. I can hear his voice and sounds that should be words, but they make no sense, the intonation is all wrong. His hands dip and weave as he speaks, emphasising the importance of the sounds he is making. He speaks quickly and with great urgency, leaning toward me. The shining of his head hurts my eyes, and I raise the folder to shade them. My boss stops talking, reaches out, and plucks the folder from my fingers. He leafs through it.
Thanks, he says, and walks out of the staff room.
I blink several times, slowly and carefully.
Thanks, he says, and walks out of the staff room.
I blink several times, slowly and carefully.
Hello, my name is Jack Sparrow. I'm a 50 year old self-employed Pirate from the Caribbean.
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