I ran, literally ran.
You think I have exaggerated, but I was out of the house before he finished one sentence. Four words, that was all I heard. Four words, and the future unrolled before me, vanishing not into a far point on the horizon but into a suffocating wall of grey.
His pride only heightened the horror. Pride! That I had become a member of his club. Only that, as the pinnacle of my life, the peak of my ambition. I suppose he doddered after me; I did not pause to see.
I left without my hat, without my cane, without even my card case. It doesn’t shock people when I tell them this, not here, not now. How things have changed! It was shocking then, but I reached our man of business before my father could get word to him, and despite his evident reservations he released the funds that I required.
So here I am, with the susurrus not of broadsheets but of breaking surf, and I know that I chose well. Give a sagacious nod, if convention will not allow you to agree, for if you say that I chose poorly we cannot part as friends.
Four words into this week’s Monday Mixer list and I found myself in the stifling environment of the most traditional gentlemen’s club imaginable. My narrator, it seems, was keen to escape that fate. Now follow the link, go and play, and see what worlds suggested themselves to other minds.