Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Six Sentence Story

Denise is the host.

The goal is to write a story of exactly six sentence in length while employing the week’s prompt word:

EXTENSION.

“Of course I have a goddamned appointment,” the man seemed to swell, the whiteness of his shirt collar shimmering from the strain, the effect was enhanced by a florid complexion, itself racing towards the darker end of the spectrum.

The beauty of the man behind the desk was almost perfect, but for the hint of a whisper between his eyes and the upper corner of his mouth; recognizing the work of his favorite Saville Row tailor, the visitor’s bushy eyebrows fell into an argument over the memory of a ‘really hot chick’ greeting him when he originally sealed the deal.

“He’s a businessman like me, I just need to explain how an extension of my contract will benefit everyone,” his notorious confidence on full display, the man took one step towards the slowly opening door, sweat appeared on his brow like lightbulbs across the midway of an abandoned carnival.

While the inner office appeared to be that of a fabulously successful executive, there was something amiss, not the individual elements of furniture and decorations, bookcases and paintings, but with the way they connected; a truly inspired decor has, at its heart, an underlying theme, a way of tying the parts together in a way relatable on a human scale.

“I want an extension to our pact, I didn’t realize how much more I could do,” the man’s words, barely out of his mouth, fell from the air and scuttled across the priceless oriental carpet, like fossilized trilobites suddenly (and temporarily) animated.

“Now why, in My name, would I want to do that?” her interrogative lilt, as sincere as a politician’s promise, grabbed at the man, the laughter from the woman behind the desk as calculated as palm fronds crisscrossed over a tiger pit.