Ah, but how could I have doubted him? Halfway down the street, the most even of even numbers, there he was: Mr. J. Lomond Esq.
I stood before the buzzer, examining the letters. They were written neatly but artistically in classic black ink on thick white paper.
It was so him. It seemed unlikely that he, a popular, handsome man with the world at his feet,
would be at home on a Saturday night, so, just to see how it felt, I gently touched his buzzer with the tip of my index finger.
There was a crackle, and then a man’s voice spoke. I was somewhat taken aback, to say the least.
“Hello?” he said again. A deep voice, well spoken, measured. Honey and smoke, velvet and silver.
I quickly scanned the list and selected another resident’s name at random. “Pizza delivery for... McFadden?” I said. I heard him sigh.
There is such a paucity of good manners on display in the so-called service sector!
Raymond thanked me for the drink and took a big gulp.
The Magners was quite pleasant, and I revised my opinion of the young barman.
Yes, his customer service skills were poor, but he did at least know how to make appropriate beverage recommendations.
Unprompted, Raymond started to tell me about his mother, how he was going to visit her tomorrow, something he did every Sunday.
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