The framework of the building was such that when it was finished, the house would be an octagon. The eccentric owner had requested that all the windows face only to the East. There were to be no windows on the North, South or West sides of the house. Eric thought it was odd, but then, he had worked with plenty odd, rich customers in the past.
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I watched the lemonade pour from the pitcher. The condensation dripped down onto the table. I smelled the citrus juice in the ice cold drink and my mouth started to water. The ice cubes clinked together in the glass. I looked up at Sandra. She smiled, but the gesture never touched her eyes.
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The cathedral was packed with people and noisy. All around me, there were people with blankets wrapped around their shoulders. They were wet from the rain, their hair stuck to their scalps, their eyes huge with shock and confusion. I searched the crowd, walking slowly from person to person, looking into their eyes, turning them around to see their faces. They were hugging each other and offering condolences for lost loved ones. It was like a horror movie come true.
I was near the alter when the double doors blew open. The wind rushed in, bringing with it the smell of rain and wet leaves.
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Suddenly, the answer hit me like a frying pan in the face. They had been switching places! That’s why Laurie and Sam had both claimed they were at the cafe during the murder. They had switched shifts and not changed it on the shift schedule. So now the question was, who was telling the truth and who was the murderer?
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The nest was perched in the tree several feet above my head. I looked at the baby bird on the ground and thought how scared it must feel, how scary it must have been to fall all that way. It was so young, it’s eyes were not yet open. I imagined falling from the nest and hitting the ground, not even being able to see what was going on. I stared at the wobbling thing. It looked like an alien with it’s eyes bulging and not being able to see.
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Great, I thought. ‘A Chat.’ That did not bode well. Whenever Mike said, “Dan, Let’s chat.” it was never good news. It was never nice words for a job well done. It was always some managerial crap. It was always Mike trying to act like a manager when he was really just a ginormous tool.
I sighed and got up from my desk to follow him to his office.
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The daily grind. The old salt mines. Another day another dollar.
As I rode the subway to work, I tried to think of all the cliches that people use to describe going to work. My father’s favorite was that he was going to the salt mines. As a child, I never understood it. He was a contractor, what did that have to do with salt!
The subway approached my stop and I stood up to get off the train.
“Hey!” I heard behind me. “Hey, did you drop this?”
I turned to see who was speaking and see if I had dropped something.
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It wasn’t something I needed, something I thought was cool or interesting. It was a necessity. I had to have it. It was like a compulsion. Yes, that was it. I was compelled to have it. The smooth green glass of the bowl looked creamy and welcoming. I had no idea what I would do with it, but I knew I had to have it.
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***** Warning ***** Bad language in this one, Folks! *****
“A treaty?” I said, incredulous.
“Yeah, a treaty.”
He blinked at me like I was stupid. He was the one being stupid. A treaty? A fucking treaty? Was he serious with this? I just looked at him, at a loss for words.
“I’ll sign your TREATY with a shit pen and wipe my ass on the paper.”
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As I was emptying the paper recycling barrel into the larger barrel, something shiny caught my eye. I stopped pouring the crumpled papers into the larger container and bent down to look a little closer. My hand stopped inches from the shiny object as a I realized what it was. A bullet casing. What the hell was a bullet casing doing in the lobby recycle bin?
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Eileen Maki 