London, United Kingdom
The lift door opened to reveal a large room, walled with pristine glass. I wondered over to the windows and looked down on the streets of London, which weaved in and out of city, and over to the Thames, which snaked between it all.
The room was lightly furnished, with the masterpiece being the table which sat in the middle. Glasses were placed next to every seat, which were black and cushioned, I found as I tugged one out from the protection of the table and carefully sat down, adjusting my red tie simultaneously.
I wanted to be here early. To make sure I was prepared. I opened my briefcase, and pulled out a large sketchpad. I ripped off the cover, carefully, to make sure none of the contents were damaged in the process, and flicked through.
I could potentially, make history, I thought to myself, as I turned the pages. I could fulfil a dream. Ever since I was a child, I had wished for this. And today, I could make it happen.
I smiled at the thought, and got up. I walked over to the stand and placed my pad onto it, and flipped back to the opening page.
I had been waiting for a while before they turned up. I had rehearsed my lines, my presentation, so I could impress. I needed their backing. I was in the company of some of the world’s richest men and women. They built their success on standards, professionalism and creativity. And I’m was planning on doing the same.
The room was very much filled with American accents. I had lived in America for two years, so I could stand it – I needed to – but to any other Brit, I think it may be too much. The atmosphere was brilliant, the world’s richest seemed to be excited about what I had to offer.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to introduce to you – Project Red.”