So I'm standing inside, and I have the inside space painted blue so that when the lights hit it there are dark red circles on the floor. That is what I tell the set-up crew of my little engagement, and I'm dressed to kill and wreathed in glory. I grew up dreaming of New York, and I said to myself, "when I make it here I'm going to have an apartment with a huge arch window, double high, and I'm going to drink coffee from my green cabinet kitchen and watch it rain, like in the Maxwell House ad," but this time I am having a going-out-of-style party.

My feet squealed on the floor as they touched the tile. No one but me was there to hear it, I wiped the soles against the hallway carpet right of the door. The elevator closed behind me and the white hall was echoing silent. I touched the door handle, which was still damp from another man's hand.

I rent a trampoline so people can launch themselves off my bedroom loft, maybe there's a kiddy pool of jello. Red and orange jello mixed together like a lava lamp, runny and firm.

"Hi Alex, I'm just coming back from lunch now. Did anyone from Belmar call me?"

That was a lie. I walked around the block twice and had a cup of coffee. The paper cup was still in my hand, though it had grown cold from the wind outside. I enjoy lying.

"Yes, Eben, he called twice, and Myron also phoned in. He said his appointment is going to run late."

"Did he say if he was coming in? No? Alright, well could you let him know when he comes in tomorrow that I need him to look over a few details on the Belmar proposal. Actually, have him call me, call me direct, alright. I might need him earlier."

Alex nodded at me as he picked up the phone, "Good Afternoon, KCX and Co, how can I help you?"

I looked through the glass doors of the entry lounge out into the city. There were streaks of rain still on the glass, though they had stopped running and faded into marks. Off the glass was the dull chatter of office work, rising and falling into quiet all over. I went to go sit in my office and listen to music.

I dried my feet again as I walked down the conference hallway and down the first row of offices.

We never had cubicles installed, it was Jenkman's idea that creative genius demanded the individuality offered by the private office. Every worker here has a private office. Their own box with a door where they can listen to music. They can hang, or chill, and produce work, in an atmosphere unique to them. It's a changing world, and it really is a radically novel idea. We pride ourselves.

"Eben, Eben man, I had to call you twice, I was looking around for you earlier."

Office lingo sack of crap. Matt always had the door to his creativity cell open so he could make bullshit with everyone who passed by, regardless of rank or purpose. We are an equal opportunity firm, but no women work here.

"I need you to squeeze some time in with me later today, give me a crash course in our accounts system."

Shut up Matt. Just shut up. Every day I have to listen to you. So when I'm going up into the party I stop in front of the window and be a silhouette for him; Matt would be late. And he spouts some line, but he can barely make it inside. That's how packed it is, and the vibration of the music beat shakes other bodies against him, forcing him out the door. The glass would rattle, and I'm upstairs.

"Um, I'm going to be a little busy today, maybe tomorrow."

"No time at all, I understand, you got to get ahead."

"Yes."

I walked down the hall.

Myron had a deadline today; he has to do it himself; it needs to go out. He should have called, but people shouldn't pick up the phone just to say it can't be done. People always do that. They should say, this is when its going to be done. So simple; I'm late, anyway. There is a woman in silver, a silver silky dress. Her name is — oh and she's an aspiring actress. And a model, but an educated model. How much education. . .

I made eye contact with Charlie a second time, I made eye contact through the reflection in his screen, his screen was off, and he was looking at a sheet of lined yellow paper clipped to the monitor. I've circled the office hallway twice, I should go to my office now, I have work, work to be doing.

I opened the door to my office, and let my cold coffee slip from the space between my hip and arm, it spun out. The top was ejected as it fell onto my sofa chair arm, and spilled coffee onto the chair and floor. Chair and floor.

"Damn it! Damn it."

I shouldn't swear, I wouldn't swear around others.

"Can someone tell Alex to get my janitor in here. I don't have time for this. I have others' work to do."

I don't have time for this. I have others' work to do. I'm so clumsy, and stupid. Why is no one getting the janitor? I know they heard me. I heard their snickering.

I threw the coffee cup at the trash can, it knocked against the wall and rolled around the floor by the bin. I sat down and watched the coffee run along the uneven floor, and pooled by the base of my veneer coat cabinet.

Those coffee streaks never come out. Coffee never comes out. I should call Belmar. How do I tell Charlie I'm going to fire him?

"Hi, Hi Eben."

"Sorry Jack, I can't talk with you now I'm a little busy, and please watch the coffee, I don't want you to track it. Yes, thank you, I appreciate it, no really, I do."

My arch window apartment — not a rental — and I got a great deal. Myron would ask me, and that's what I'd tell him: a great deal.