At a place

John Addleton drank some coffee, but it was already tepid, so he set the cup aside. He stroked his moustache and as he sat at his desk, waiting, sentences formed and occupied his mind "I have to go right back", "a play without meaning", "we don´t connect", "where is my mummy?" At five to ten, he checked his tie, pen, briefcase, the shine on his leather shoes, he blew his nose, opened the door and walked towards the chamber. Others milling around outside : "good to see you, Addleton old man, may I introduce ......?","in my opinion just get rid of them, and fast"," how are the children doing ?" "budgetary constraints are all voluntary, as you know." They went inside for the debate, which produced few surprises. At one point Addleton realised that the voices were still in his head " go right back, you have to go right back, right back to the start." At which point he coughed and his coughing, exacerbated by the dry air in the chamber, was so persistent that he had to go out so as not to overly disturb proceedings. He sat on a wooden chair by the door, handkerchief in hand, his eyes wet. It looked a little bit like he had been crying. Two cleaning ladies went by with their mops and brooms and once safely out of earshot laughed at him :" looks like someone stole his favorite toy, poor old Mr. Addleton."