Day Sixty Three
I walk into my office. There is man asleep in the waiting room. He looks like he’s homeless- unshaven, unwashed, clothes torn and dirty. He snores loudly. I know he’s not homeless, he’s my ten o’clock- here early. I walk past him, put my stuff down on my desk. There’s a thousand e-mails, as always. I check the voicemail first- someone died last night. I’m in shock, I don’t know what my next step is.
I feel like I should cry, or be upset or something. But my head jumps to the job- what paperwork needs to be filled out, what reports need to be filed, who needs to be notified first. I don’t even think of the family or friends that might be flipping out over it, though that’ll inevitably be more paperwork.
Someone starts crying out in the lobby. Loud, exaggerated sobs. It still jars me, a little. But I’m getting used to it. I walk to the door of my small, windowless office and look out. Someone is sitting with her, trying to calm her down. I close the door so I can get my work done.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for your comment! I will love it and hug it and pet it and call it George. Or, you know, just read and reply to it. But still- you rock!