[Wilhelm sends, first, six digits, and then he explains,]
For the delivery. This allows entry past the front lobby. Please instruct the delivery to come all the way to the top floor.
[The delivery person will need to receive their tip, after all.
Then, as a courtesy, Wilhelm sends an email from his phone to the colleague whose offices take the floor just below Wilhelm's. He thanks the colleague for his efforts throughout Wilhelm's personal leave, and sends his appreciation for their scheduled lunch meeting. Unfortunately, it now conflicts with a vital matter, although this colleague is welcome to meet with him for a quarter of an hour later in the day. Wilhelm sends just as much appreciation for his understanding. "You keep us going, Kevin," he writes, and ends it with that.
He gets work done, between then and two o'clock, but not enough. And he cares about that, but not enough. At last, he has read the same three lines of an internal memo for the past nine minutes, because his eyes keep flicking away from his screen to look at his phone. He's waiting for the call. He's waiting for the call. He knows he will hear it ring when it rings, but he looks for it regardless. And when it does ring, the bloom inside him is a time-lapse feed, the unfurling fast and overmuch.
In answering his phone, he does not sigh.] Joshua; hello. [But his voice has the quality of gleaming candlelight on porcelain. He does not sound like he's straining, but he is straining to hear any background noise, any shuffle or creak. He wants to know what to be jealous toward, whether he shall remain in envy of what his bed sheets touch, or whether something else has come to collect Joshua's body. Sunlight itself might be more privileged than Wilhelm.
What he says is unlike the appreciation afforded to Kevin Winnicot, the most diligent of his employees--]
no subject
For the delivery. This allows entry past the front lobby. Please instruct the delivery to come all the way to the top floor.
[The delivery person will need to receive their tip, after all.
Then, as a courtesy, Wilhelm sends an email from his phone to the colleague whose offices take the floor just below Wilhelm's. He thanks the colleague for his efforts throughout Wilhelm's personal leave, and sends his appreciation for their scheduled lunch meeting. Unfortunately, it now conflicts with a vital matter, although this colleague is welcome to meet with him for a quarter of an hour later in the day. Wilhelm sends just as much appreciation for his understanding. "You keep us going, Kevin," he writes, and ends it with that.
He gets work done, between then and two o'clock, but not enough. And he cares about that, but not enough. At last, he has read the same three lines of an internal memo for the past nine minutes, because his eyes keep flicking away from his screen to look at his phone. He's waiting for the call. He's waiting for the call. He knows he will hear it ring when it rings, but he looks for it regardless. And when it does ring, the bloom inside him is a time-lapse feed, the unfurling fast and overmuch.
In answering his phone, he does not sigh.] Joshua; hello. [But his voice has the quality of gleaming candlelight on porcelain. He does not sound like he's straining, but he is straining to hear any background noise, any shuffle or creak. He wants to know what to be jealous toward, whether he shall remain in envy of what his bed sheets touch, or whether something else has come to collect Joshua's body. Sunlight itself might be more privileged than Wilhelm.
What he says is unlike the appreciation afforded to Kevin Winnicot, the most diligent of his employees--]
Thank you for calling.
[--but it's still pristine porcelain.]