The Man in the Suit

The man in the suit entered through the grand wooden door, closing his dripping umbrella
and tossing it outside. He stepped into the warm room and shut the door behind him, as he had
done an hour ago. Despite the bleak weather, each fresh breath he took cleared his mind. He
moved around the room slowly to maintain his guise, and tired from his journey, leaned on the
back of the velvet green armchair and checked his watch. He moved his hand along the chair and
noticed each gold button was placed faultlessly. Its cleanliness contrasted with the environment.
Around the room, coffee-stained papers etched with writing covered the dark wooden floors.
From the ceiling hung gold rings encased in one another, and countless patterned origami
animals; their eyes following the man unsettlingly. Old desks and shelves were shoved against
the walls, littered with vials, pens, rolled-up tubes of paint, and the remains of leaves and dirt.
Old clippings and faded papers lined the walls. He regarded every detail carefully as he slid his
hands into the pockets of his pristine suit and wandered about. Above on the desk, sharp gold
tools were lined up and held with leather straps, one missing. Underneath, abused letters lay in
stacks, and close by the door was a hook with a wet coat hung over it. The only sounds were
those of the contentious downpour and his own breath. An exposed lightbulb hung from the
ceiling and made the shadows of the animals more hostile. The man strolled around, striking the
ground with a tap with each step, before stopping abruptly. He pretended not to notice the fierce
crimson trail or the bold scratches on the floor, but eagerness overtook him, and, letting out a
heavy sigh, he pursued the route to its master the way he had done an hour ago. On the floor the
figure lay, the trail disfiguring around its head. The crimson bled its way onto the floor,
drenching the coffee-stained papers. He tilted his head, examining the side of the body that lay
before him. Chuckling to himself he was reminded of the previous incident he had just barely
made it out of. The sight before him made his heart beat faster, the way his mind raced in mad
excitement. He checked his watch, and, finally satisfied with his covered tracks, the man in the
suit took one last glance at the bloodied figure before hastily making his way to the door. As he
struggled to open the tangled ends of the umbrella, the animals hanging from the ceiling started
to swing- their eyes still holding their sinister, almost murderous stare. The paper on the ground
fluttered, the vials clinked, the wooden floors groaned underneath him, and the movement of the
air abruptly died. The man looked up, questioning his senses. Yet he decided to ignore it and
prepare himself for the attack of cold and rain. The man in the suit let the sound outside enter the
room for an instant as he opened the door and stepped out, and then clicked open his umbrella
and closed the door behind him. Although the rest of the room had become silent, the hanging
animals remained swinging slowly. They knew why he was here. Again, the loop was reset and
they awaited his next arrival.