What can YOU say in six sentences?
The young engineer with the brush cut hair will find that his cherished Montblanc pen has begun to leak into his briefcase, and there will be the soft cut leather, stained, and thoughts of his mother who gave him the briefcase, with her boldly printed and worn-thin aprons. Inside the briefcase will be the well-thumbed manila folder with the static bridge abutment diagrams, and underneath it the blotter calendar with the phone number he should tear off and hide. He will see the textured glass of the office door that has not been painted with his name as it should have been, and think of the cocktail glass his plump wife will hand him at the end of the day, and there will also be his secretary’s distracting hair color as she walks into his office, a bit sullen, through that door. There will be loose baseboards, both here and in his study, and prints that no one sees on the walls, also in both places, and unattractive side tables with unattractive lamps that for political reasons cannot be replaced, and venetian blinds hanging like thin and resilient bars on the windows. He will notice his tie is tied too short, and that he hates the color blue, and that he is late, always late for something. I will not write about it, beginning with that one morning, and he will forever float somewhere, impassive, watching himself not unfold against the pages, his life not unreeling, in reverse origami.