Mr Lyon 

He said he was looking for something different. As they say, you should be careful about what you wish for as he got exactly what he thought he wanted when I came round the corner and slammed him in his face with my enormous shades (despite the clouds and the horrific rain). I could tell he was impressed, but then he was too impressed too soon and that was unattractive.
He worked in the city and that was his life. It wasn’t long before he delved into Keynesian theory and moral philosophy while talking about work. Maybe he was nervous, but his talk was dead. The ‘something a bit different’ was stuck in my head as he blathered. I mentally yawned. Lyon was the same as all the other quintessential city guys. He dropped that he worked in the city in the same way as all the others. He had the same view that he was cultured as he had travelled with work. In the same way as the others, he got very offended when I pointed out that 1-2 days in different cities in different European countries isn’t travelling. He broke no molds. In fact, he could fit into many molds; he was the kind of guy that was malleable, so with a bash or two he would take any shape dictated to him. He lacked originality and that ‘va-va-voom with a boom’.  

As my main course arrived I looked at him and realised he wasn’t a bad man. He was just a generic man. There was nothing special about him and that’s why he needed his job to cover up the nihility that was below the every day routine society forced him into. He felt like a boobytrap with twigs on top. God forbid if you were to stand on the twigs, as you would be swallowed in the void of his personality, which I imagined was much like a black hole. I was definitely too much for him and he was too little for me. 

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