Heavy, clattering footsteps accompanied Keith as he trudged his way to the office in the most brusque and abrupt manner, which was unlike his usual self, the individual quirky aristocratic, pompous in his work and quite the fashion critic. He pushed the great doors leading to the seemingly royal room, where he finally managed to seat himself in his armchair, behind his intricately carved teak desk.
Immediately, he flourished a pen, some ink and the occasional rubber stamp and placed it on his desk. The newspaper, now laying on his lap, was unfurled and Keith began to read the familiar foreign language, which literally filled most of the paper. Most people did not know that he could read and write in many different languages, primarily because they didn’t ask or were too busy to take notice of him.
After putting the paper away, he turned to meet a gaunt faced man, who had applied for his clearance papers and other identifications the day before.
Keith took out the man’s papers, identifications and ration books and immediately began to sign, stamp and warn the man of the necessary precautions to be taken, as required of his protocol.
As he handed the identification card, ration books and clearance papers to the man, he warned, “Here are your papers. Be on your guard and beware of word of mouth. Do NOT lose your ration books and papers. Other than that, well….welcome to post Fall Out London. I wish you luck in your travels. Oh, and lose the jumper, you look fat in it.”
With that done, he waved the man goodbye and directed him to the door. Keith then waited for other applicants of the day to arrive by taking his mind off things and randomly singing to himself to while away the silence and dread of time.