Clyde had not stopped moving since morning.
From the moment he stepped into the office, the day had unfolded like an unbroken chain of meetings, documents, negotiations, and calls, packed so tightly that even the spaces between tasks felt occupied. His schedule had been packed to the point of suffocation, back-to-back briefings with department heads, a tense video conference that stretched longer than intended, and several contracts that required his personal review.
By the time noon arrived, Clyde had not truly registered hunger. His lunch hour, if it could be called that, was spent seated across from representatives of an international corporation, discussing business cooperation and long-term projections over meticulously plated food. The restaurant was upscale and quiet, the kind of place where the clink of cutlery sounded loud and deliberate, where every waiter moved as if choreographed. The atmosphere was polished, restrained, much like Clyde himself.
