The Return of Henry Deammone

“You can go,” said the health worker.

Vero half-jumped from her seat and exited right as the hunched man opened the curtains of her booth from the other side. She hurried to the back of the booth to find the door that Jia had mentioned. As her hand touched the door handle, she couldn’t resist the temptation to look back. For a moment, she caught a glimpse of the hunched man’s figure, and before either Vero or he could clearly see each other, she opened the door and ran out of the hall.

*

Henry swept his fingertips over the oak wood desk. The wood was hundreds of years old, but not as old as him. As he raised his hand and looked at his clean fingertips, Raphael walked in with a trolley.

“The servants clean your workspace every day, Mr. Deammone,” said Raphael. He pushed the trolley to the coffee table near the long window and began arranging teacups and snacks.

“Good,” said Henry with a smirk. He walked up to Raphael and observed his movements. Raphael seemed nervous, and Henry was ple