The week’s where Monday is a holiday always fly by so fast. It is already Wednesday and I feel like I am scrambling to keep up. Still the three day weekend was nice. I’ll put up with a little scramble for the benefits of the three days off. Still it means I feel like I can’t dawdle, so let’s keep it moving with the morning prompt. Are you ready? Good. Let’s go.
I kind of like this. It makes me curious about the rest of the story. I will probably be thinking about this on and off for the rest of the day actually. which isn’t a bad thing…
Wednesday, September 7th: This is just a temporary location.
“This is just a temporary location,” he said. I looked around at the piles of boxes as he cleaned off the chair in front of his desk. His cleaning process involved shifting the stack of files on top of the chair to sit atop another pile already settled on the floor. The addition made it wobble slightly but after a slight shift it seemed stable enough. At least I thought it would remain upright for as long as I planned to be here.
Despite his assurances of a temporary work space, many of the boxes had a light coating of dust on them and the space had the scent of too many papers stored in one place for too long. I suspected temporary had often been extended. My nose twitched and I fought down the urge to sneeze. The quicker I completed my task the better.
He shifted away from his stack and eased himself around his desk to reach his own chair behind. He gestured towards the now clear desk chair. I stepped forwards as he sat down. His chair gave a soft squeal of protest as though not liking his weight but resigned to its burden. I settled myself in the hard plastic shell of a guest chair. Having no springs and being molded from a single piece of plastic it made not a sound. I perched on the edge, not wanting to settle in.
“I have brought a letter,” I began. He nodded and then started. I quieted hearing the vibration of a cell phone. He pulled the phone from his pocket, looked at the screen and tossed me an apologetic grin. “I have to take this,” he said. Before I could respond he pressed the buttons and answered the call. I tried not to look like I was eavesdropping as he mumbled responses to the voice on the other end. He shuffled papers and I could feel my fingers itch, the compulsion to jump in and put in some form of organization to his paperwork difficult to resist.
As he shuffled, packets of crackers, gum wrappers and other debris were shifted aside as well. I was sure he had a system. In my experience people with such layered desks all tended to claim a system was in place. I also knew from experience it was less a system and more of a sense memory of where an item was last seen and what was around it at the time than an actual system. While my memory was excellent, I had never been able to work in such a system. Mr. Morris’ system looked even more chaotic than most and I wondered if even he could claim there was an underlying order.
‘If there is it is of the archaeological dig variety,’ I decided.
After a time his call ended. He set his phone down. “Sorry about that,” he said.
“I have a letter,” I began again. He spotted an unopened pack of crackers that looked as though it came with a takeout order of soup. He opened them, the plastic rustling loudly. He seemed more interested in the crackers than in my errand.
“I have been asked to deliver it to you.” He may have been more interested in the crackers than the letter but I was eager to complete my task and be on my way. This was the last task I would ever perform for Jason Anderson and I wanted it done. I reached into my bag and pulled out the sealed letter.
“What’s the letter say,” he asked as I held it out. He didn’t reach for it. I dropped it on top of the accumulated contents of his desk and stood up.
“I don’t know,” I told him. “Nor do I care.”
Ten til Midnight 