Reading Glasses
An average day for Charles and Graham. This is an old piece. I don't remember when I wrote it, but if you want just a hint of what they're like, here we are.
The soft ticking of a wall clock and the uneven clicking from a typewriter mixed with the low hums of a man who laid, sprawled out on a couch. His far stretched arms held onto a newspaper. He was slim and gangling, certainly thin enough that he could fit nearly anywhere, but in fact, he was far too long for this couch. His legs dangled off the other end. Across the room, quite contrary to the man on the couch, the man at his desk was well buttoned up, clearly hard at work on his typewriter. He brushed back his thick black curls and tucked them behind his ear. A tired groan came from the couch, only interrupting the pleasant song that was previously being hummed for just a moment before it started up again. The pages of the newspaper crinkled. Soon the disarrayed pitapats from the typewriter came to a quick stop, and the man at his desk sighed softly.
"You know, if you put on your glasses, you wouldn't need to hold the paper out that far," the man at the desk said tiredly as he pushed up his own pair of reading glasses.
"They make me look old. I am not old, so I do not need them. My eyes aren't as bad as yours, Charles."
"No, you're not old. You're the ripe age of thirty-five, and if you don't put on your glasses, your eyes will age faster than you the rest of you, except perhaps your liver. At least I know my body's limits, Graham," Charles said sternly.
"Oh! That reminds me..." With a slight smile and a full chuckled, Graham set the newspaper down and stood up. He swept his hand along Charles desk on his way to a high cupboard; Charles frowned and went back to typing out his report. Inside were bottles upon bottles of nicely ranged pills and other medications. In the very back, there sat a long row of tall bottles of whiskey. Graham proceeded to reach to the back and pull one out. Taking a tumbler from the next cupboard, he casually poured himself a tall, straight glass and a much smaller one, spritzed with soda, was set on Charles' desk. Charles didn't bother to look up, but he thanked him with a small nod. Unfortunately for the sake of Charles' argument, he was too polite to refuse him this common courtesy.