beat. Who could that be? I press the intercom.
Delivery for Ms. Steele. A bored, disembodied voice answers, and
disappointment crashes through me. I listlessly make my way
downstairs and find a young man noisily chewing gum, holding a
large cardboard box, and leaning against the front door. I sign
for the package and take it upstairs. The box is huge and
surprisingly light. Inside are two dozen long-stemmed, white
roses and a card.
Congratulations on your first day at work.
I hope it went well.
And thank you for the glider. That was very thoughtful.
It has pride of place on my desk.
Christian
I stare at the typed card, the hollow in my chest expanding. No
doubt, his assistant sent this. Christian probably had very
little to do with it. Its too painful to think about. I examine
the rosesthey are beautiful, and I cant bring myself to throw
them in the trash.
Dutifully, I make my way into the kitchen to hunt down a vase.
And so a pattern develops: wake, work, cry, sleep. Well, try to