Character: Clarence

 

Clarence could see there was no escape and hence no cause to run.  He sat back and watched his world tear apart, thirty-one years in various branches of the British secret service he had been shot at seven times but never felt death was imminent. No matter how dire the situation there was always a light in the darkness for those with eyes to see. Whilst others vainly scampered over walls

and under cars, fleeing their fears, he scrutinised all around him. His dry lips twitched at the edges, slipping into a lopsided grin, he had found the light, a middle-aged woman floating in the sea of mist, her feet swinging freely back and forth above the pavement.