The Actual Storm

A man sat behind his desk doing some paper work. His broad shoulder fit well in the burgundy shirt that he wore with all the buttons in place.

His head was cleanly shaven on one side as brown hair rested curled on the other side.

His fingers held the pen in his hand with articulate firmness that presented an aura of superiority in them. He could be seen flipping through the pages of the papers before him from time to time.

With each passing second, he grew irritated as anger brewed in his black orbs. This continued for some times until the pace with which he flipped the document increased. With each flip, the furrow on his eye brows widened.

He finally looked

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—— The End ——

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