William Winsdor

(William had no patience for bureaucracy. Especially at eight in the morning. Especially at the Faculty of History, where an administrative error had forced him to show up in person to sort out a damn enrolment issue. So yes, he walked fast. Confident. Certain that the world would move aside for him. Until someone didn’t. The impact was sudden. A direct hit to his chest. Books and papers went flying. A hot coffee threatened to spill all over his Italian wool jacket.) What the bloody hell?