A partnership not unlike Bonnie and Clyde, Rodrigo and Gabriella, Simon and Garfunkel. Malone had known the scent of many a fine spirit in his years. The material-laden workdesk, the rule across his drawing aisle used for accurate and precise strokes, bringing together the framework of what would become Bridgewater Place, south of Leeds City Station. His weathered and aged hands show workmanship, their lines and ridges signs of the years of projects he had undertaken in his career.
Wearing D & G glasses, a dress shirt, cashmere pullover and trousers with pronounced seems, Malone's dress sense reflects the organised and minimalist manner of his workplace and flat. A a crystal tumbler rests upon the desk of his latest work assignment, filled heartily with Jack Daniels rum. One of Malone's favourite tipples, signs of his profession and his addiction intertwined.
Illustrating accuracy is still present but shaky at times. Taking a sip to quell the jitters of old age, Malone feels eased as he works, bringing together the structures that create his paycheck and means to persevere. Midori to absinthe, sake, Jack Daniels and rum are all on rotation, their presence a necessity for work progress in Malone's mind.
Darkness. The slow opening of eyes and recognising the sound of ambulance sirens, Malone barely observes the area around him. He identifies the ambulance's interior, wondering why he is on the patient's bench under morphine, a medic attending to his needs, speeding to Leeds General Infirmary. He feels the weight of being rushed to a hospital bed, nurses and a doctor talking around him, then passes back into unconsciousness.
Becoming used to the comfort of a hopsital bed after three days, Malone tries to remember what took place. Working fervently at his desk with the ususal J & D to hand to aid the shakes, he had a project deadline that evening. The vaguest memory of the technical pencil slipping from his hand, falling to the left out of his designer chair, then darkness. After that it was all just a blur. Nurse Rene brings a pen and pad to his bedside, allowing his skilled hands to keep busy, practicing the basics, roughing a concept of that lost project. The oscilator acts as a metronome, letting Malone keep time in his head as he joins the lines on the sketchpad.
Returning home following discharge four months' later, the seasoned architect turns towards mentoring. Young and training architects look towards Malone for guidance, drawing upon his knowledge and experience. His fine-trimmed grey beard and heavily-weathered hands impart his age, his ever-keen eyes peering through his designer glasses, not missing a detail. Sipping a cup of jinseng tea, the days of absinthe, sake and rum belong with his past. Malone's reliance on them fading away like his age, a firm and welcoming reminder that they are not to be depended upon anymore.
Martin, one of Malone's most eager students, finds him on the floor. He checks for a response. Nothing. A pulse? Faint at best. The sounds of the ambulance are highly mute and almost unrecognisable, medic's voices mere mumbles and sound. Hearing like being submerged under water, Malone struggles to distinguish the situation around him, quickly slipping back into slumber. Dr. Khan and fellow surgeons work on the operating table for seven hours, their intricate methods not unlike Malone at his work desk. He drifts in and out of consciousness, wondering why those figures in green scrubs and facial masks are so manic, barking out orders and putting various surgical tools into his body.
And then darkness...
Saturday, July 13th, 2012
Malone Harrow, 65 years of age. An architect by trade, winner of the Gretsch award for his design of Bridgewater Place. A dilligent worker with a shrewd mind and high attention to detail, he was commited to his cause and known for enjoying his drinks. The photo on the casket displaying his designer glasses and a reserved smile, signs of cheerful times for a designer in his prime. His favourite drinks are offered in memory; the display of rums, vodkas, gins and various other high-quality spirits aligning his resting place. Firm reminders of his two favourite things in life; drawing and drink.
Raise a glass to the memory of Malone.
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