‘Sorry,’ he said, wiping away a tear. She almost rose from her chair, but he held his hand up to stop her. ‘It’s Okay,’ he said. I’m getti...g by. Don’t worry. I know she’s getting better, but she deserves a few tears after all. You haven’t see her at her best.’ ‘I’m sure I haven’t,’ she said. ‘I’m not seeing you at your best either. You must be a wonderful husband.’ ‘Why do you say that?’ ‘Well to let her...’ ‘Or a fool of a man,’ he said. ‘Who knows? We made it work, she isn’t like that all the. He felt the breeze all around him, reminding everyone that spring was here. He focused on the part of his mind that urged him to be alone. Suddenly Arrian found himself in a place similar to the place where he and Fujin often discussed matters.He wasn't alone.Staring back at him was... himself?No, it wasn't him, but the resemblance was uncanny. Everything about the unknown identity looked like Arrian with the exception of their hair. Where Arrian had long straight black hair, this entity had. Men and their disorganization, she thought and smiled. She set off pulling items off shelves and placing them in sorted piles next to her. When she got up towards the top she needed a chair to reach the higher shelves, being she was only 5'2. She was standing on a slightly rickety stool on her tippy toes trying to reach some books that had gotten shoved to the way back when a strand of her blonde hair fell into her face tickling her nose and causing her to sneeze. The force of the sneeze caused. To relieve the monotony of mixing with the plebs, he decided to form a rather exclusive club. He came to this decision one night whilst drinking in the back bar of Burlington Berties, a notorious drinking den opposite the King’s Theatre. A friend had suggested calling it Burlington Berties Club, or the BBC for short. Bertie snorted with laughter at the idea as the friend’s father was Director-General of the British Broadcasting Corporation. Another friend looked up aghast.“Dear God, I should.