Not much happened over the next three weeks. A project out of the office downtown.

The building had these colourless pillars out front, the inside matched. One notch better or worse than the vibe you get from walking into a funeral home.

Each day I walked up and signed in and they’d hand me the tag. Sometimes there were no tags so I waited while they wrote out a slip.

Keep the slip on you at all times, the security guard said.

Once I had my tag, the security guard would call upstairs and ask for someone to come down.

Morning, I’d say.


How are you?

Good and you?

Excellent thanks.

Then we’d go up the lift together.


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