my floor and smile.
I put my hand on the handle and push down. It clicks but doesn’t move and for a few seconds I freak out. “Maybe they locked me in the building.” I push forward a little harder and it opens. I smile wider. I missed my office.
I want a triple espresso. I want my comfortable, expensive, tailored clothing. A shower. Food—God, I’m going to order so much stupid food and I’m not even going to finish it, just throw it away. I want to take a shit. Then I want to find these assholes and do something very bad to them.
I move into the main portion of my lobby and even before the lights begin to come on, I can see the outline of my couch and Carol’s desk. The small trace of ambient light gleams off the polished doors to my sanctuary. I hear the click of energy flowing into tubes and diodes as the room is flooded with piercingly bright light. I instantly wish they hadn’t turned on.
It takes a few seconds to figure out what it is I’m looking at. It takes a few seconds for my brain to categorize, to put the picture together: the colors, the smell, the bone-grey and blood-like dirt and shell casings bright as crushed copper roaches. It takes a few seconds for me to figure this all out.
When I do, I turn around and dry heave on the door.
3.
My brain turns around in circles.
I’m in the landing again.
I’m rocking back and forth.
I don’t want to go back in there.
I don’t like my office anymore.
This has to be a joke.
This is a cruel joke that Phil and Janet played on me. Maybe, maybe Robert had them killed; maybe I’ve been framed. I don’t want to go backing there. Sitting here in the dark, the floor is cold and hard on my ass, even with the plastic diaper and lab coats.
Then I hear it. Something moved behind me. I look at the wall in front of me; the lights are still on in the lobby and I can see someone move past the opening of the window.
I watch the shadow on the wall in front of me. This is a huge joke. I launch myself up and turn around. There’s nothing there. I look into the window, scan left to right, and still nothing. The lights flicker out making the window a black rectangular hole again. I slip myself down off the tips of my toes to the cold concrete, look down and shake my head.
Maybe I’m losing it. I haven’t had anything to eat yet; I feel shaky enough as it is and the dry heaving didn’t help much. I’m just seeing things. Then I hear something faint from the other side of the door, like breathing but it’s quiet. I bend down and put my ear to the door. I can’t hear much but there’s definitely something making noise on the other side of the door.
I bet this is part of the joke. I bet they’re all standing around waiting for me to open the door again.
“ We totally got you ,” they’ll say and I’ll feel like an asshole and everyone will laugh and then I’ll fire them all. They’ll all laugh again and so will I, because I’m not joking. Then it will get very silent. I will continue to laugh.
More noise is coming from the other side of the door; I hear something that sounds like shuffling or scratching, like someone’s dragging something across the floor. There’s no way they are locking me in the fucking stairwell. Something hits the door with such force that I stumble back. I look at the door. It happens again. I look into the window.
The lights turn on and I nearly fall down the stairs. The door bursts open and I move backwards. The silhouette of the man standing on the landing doesn’t look right. I try to figure it out; looking from left to right, he’s missing an arm, his right arm. His face is grey and he’s missing an arm.
“This isn’t fucking funny,” I scream at him.
He says nothing. He comes at me. He’s dragging his left leg; he’s missing his left foot.
“Cut the fucking shit,” I yell at him but he doesn’t stop. I’m ready though. I’ve had enough of this. He stumbles after taking another step with his stump
I put my hand on the handle and push down. It clicks but doesn’t move and for a few seconds I freak out. “Maybe they locked me in the building.” I push forward a little harder and it opens. I smile wider. I missed my office.
I want a triple espresso. I want my comfortable, expensive, tailored clothing. A shower. Food—God, I’m going to order so much stupid food and I’m not even going to finish it, just throw it away. I want to take a shit. Then I want to find these assholes and do something very bad to them.
I move into the main portion of my lobby and even before the lights begin to come on, I can see the outline of my couch and Carol’s desk. The small trace of ambient light gleams off the polished doors to my sanctuary. I hear the click of energy flowing into tubes and diodes as the room is flooded with piercingly bright light. I instantly wish they hadn’t turned on.
It takes a few seconds to figure out what it is I’m looking at. It takes a few seconds for my brain to categorize, to put the picture together: the colors, the smell, the bone-grey and blood-like dirt and shell casings bright as crushed copper roaches. It takes a few seconds for me to figure this all out.
When I do, I turn around and dry heave on the door.
3.
My brain turns around in circles.
I’m in the landing again.
I’m rocking back and forth.
I don’t want to go back in there.
I don’t like my office anymore.
This has to be a joke.
This is a cruel joke that Phil and Janet played on me. Maybe, maybe Robert had them killed; maybe I’ve been framed. I don’t want to go backing there. Sitting here in the dark, the floor is cold and hard on my ass, even with the plastic diaper and lab coats.
Then I hear it. Something moved behind me. I look at the wall in front of me; the lights are still on in the lobby and I can see someone move past the opening of the window.
I watch the shadow on the wall in front of me. This is a huge joke. I launch myself up and turn around. There’s nothing there. I look into the window, scan left to right, and still nothing. The lights flicker out making the window a black rectangular hole again. I slip myself down off the tips of my toes to the cold concrete, look down and shake my head.
Maybe I’m losing it. I haven’t had anything to eat yet; I feel shaky enough as it is and the dry heaving didn’t help much. I’m just seeing things. Then I hear something faint from the other side of the door, like breathing but it’s quiet. I bend down and put my ear to the door. I can’t hear much but there’s definitely something making noise on the other side of the door.
I bet this is part of the joke. I bet they’re all standing around waiting for me to open the door again.
“ We totally got you ,” they’ll say and I’ll feel like an asshole and everyone will laugh and then I’ll fire them all. They’ll all laugh again and so will I, because I’m not joking. Then it will get very silent. I will continue to laugh.
More noise is coming from the other side of the door; I hear something that sounds like shuffling or scratching, like someone’s dragging something across the floor. There’s no way they are locking me in the fucking stairwell. Something hits the door with such force that I stumble back. I look at the door. It happens again. I look into the window.
The lights turn on and I nearly fall down the stairs. The door bursts open and I move backwards. The silhouette of the man standing on the landing doesn’t look right. I try to figure it out; looking from left to right, he’s missing an arm, his right arm. His face is grey and he’s missing an arm.
“This isn’t fucking funny,” I scream at him.
He says nothing. He comes at me. He’s dragging his left leg; he’s missing his left foot.
“Cut the fucking shit,” I yell at him but he doesn’t stop. I’m ready though. I’ve had enough of this. He stumbles after taking another step with his stump
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