Death, But Not Of A Salesman – A Drabble

His stance spoke of the softness of academia. The protected air of hallowed halls shielding him from the realities of the world outside.

The slightly stooped shoulder curve. The narrow chest.

The low-carried paunch giving him the permanent look of a man who is wearing a child’s rubber ring underneath his plain grey work shirt.

His was a world of luncheons and learning. The dissemination of facts to a willing and, more often, unwilling audience.

After dust became dust colleagues would ask, “Who would want to kill him?”

The subterranean voices of long-forgotten children might scream in reply, “Who wouldn’t?”

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10 thoughts on “Death, But Not Of A Salesman – A Drabble

    • Thanks Diane. I’ve got a bunch of story fragments in a notebook and rather than them just sitting there I’m trying to turn them into something – even if it’s only drabble length!

      Like

    • Weirdly…my chemistry teacher had the same streak! He referred to his wooden ruler as “the bongo brain basher”. I hadn’t thought about him in years but clearly my subconscious was at play here…!

      Liked by 1 person

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