Alice sat across from me with a dish of lo mein in front of her.  She twirled her fork in the noodles without looking as she started a conversation, “How are things with the therapist going?”

An odd conversation starter, I thought.

“Didn’t really seem to be going anywhere at first, but I think I’m actually making progress now,” I replied.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.  I mean, I still think the sessions are a waste of time… and money, but he introduced me to a CD that actually helped.”

“What, like a hypnosis CD?”

“No, just nature sounds and other crap—you know, the kind of CD you can pull from any easy listening or New Age aisle.  Except this one actually worked.

“My mom sent me some old cassettes of classical music and other nonsense that she used to play for me when I was a kid.  They didn’t help,” I stopped.  Her light brown eyes stared intently at my boring life’s story—she seemed interested for some strange reason.

“I’m sorry; I must be boring you,” I said politely, trying to see if her interest was merely a façade.

“No,” she chuckled, “I don’t really get good conversation these days—what with work and all.”

“I can imagine.  You must be busy with your double duty.”

“I love it, but it’s hell—let’s just leave it at that.”

“Fine by me.”

We sat in silence for several minutes focusing more on our food than our company.  I had spent the past fifty days unable to sleep—unable to focus.  It’s been hard to do anything, so any conversation I could start would mostly relate to work, something I’m sure she’d rather not discuss over lunch break.  For several minutes I sat there hoping that she would just say something; instead, the only sounds I heard were the clanking of our silverware against the ceramic plates and the faint, melodic sounds of traditional music that fell from the overhead speakers.

Finally, she broke the silence, “You don’t talk much, do you?”

I replied through a half-sincere smile, “I don’t really have much to talk about.”

“And you seemed to be doing so well before,” she said sarcastically.

“Hey, now, I’m not the only one not talking here,” I quipped back.

“Good point.”

“Yeah, so, what about you?  Other than dedicate your every waking breath to work, what do you do for fun?”

“Fun?  I don’t understand,” she smiled a toothy grin before asking if I had the time.

My phone was resting on the table; I picked it up and illuminated the display.  A crude collage of images filled the screen—leftover assets fromMudd-Runn I had repurposed for my prototype.  I stared blankly at the screen for several moments trying to figure out why my prototype was running.

I terminated the program and was brought to my phone’s home screen—the clock read “12:17.”  That can’t be right, I thought as I shook the phone—hoping, for some reason, that would adjust the time on display to present.  It didn’t.  I set the phone back down on my desk and pushed my chair over toward my monitor—my computer’s clock agreed with my phone.

I looked up and saw Matt walking toward the office’s exit as he pointed toward me and shouted, “I sent you an email—meeting at 10:30 Friday.”

I waved in acknowledgment of his statement and opened up Outlook.  His appointment invite was at the top of my inbox; I accepted the invitation, synced the date with my phone, and set a reminder.

I scrolled through my calendar to see if there were any other appointments I had scheduled in that I may have forgotten about.  I discovered that I had an appointment with Dr. Taggart on Thursday that I forgot to cancel. Maybe I should keep it, I considered, maybe something could actually come of the session now that I’ve had some sleep.

When I finished checking my appointments, I logged out of my workstation; it was after noon and I was getting hungry.  I unplugged the USB cable from my phone and pushed in my chair.  I looked around the office as I walked toward the exit—it was empty.  I concluded that they must all be out to lunch.

It was rare that the entire office would take their lunch at the same time, but it has happened in the past.  Generally one or two people will take a later lunch so they can man the phones, but we never really received many calls and we all had voicemail in the event that a call was missed.  I didn’t feel bad about leaving the office empty; my stomach was beginning to growl and I had an overwhelming desire for Chinese.

To be continued…

Freefall is the creative property of Andrew T.S. Bedgood and is protected by US Copyright laws.  Any use of this creative work without permission is prohibited.