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Oliver My mind races as I follow my father to his office. I slump into one of the chairs opposite his desk. It feels like I haven’t been here in ages. I look around the familiar room … he hasn’t changed anything. It’s old and still smells of dust and an odd orange-smokey scent, reminding me of the headmaster's office at school. On one wall are olive green filing cabinets with a few photos of our family and my grandfathers above it. Across from it against the other wall is an old wooden bookshelf. In the middle of the room is his massive desk with a computer and an old reading lamp with a cream-platted lampshade and a frayed cord dangling underneath. The seat behind the desk matches the dark brown padded leather of the one I am sitting on. I used to hate these chairs, but considering t