When we heard an ungendered voice say, almost out of earshot, 'I'll just leave this here', it was plainly not meant for us, the spoken words, that is. Nor whatever the word 'this' designated. And whatever 'here' might mean, it couldn't mean where we were since, from the perspective of the unknown speaker we were certainly 'there', not 'here'. This is what I reluctantly returned home to, after what turned out to be my final engagement in this cycle. You see, there are a number of rooms. That number in fact has always been in dispute because where a given wall doesn't extend all the way from floor to ceiling, then we're not sure whether there are either one or two room at a given site. Fortunately this is something that I refuse to concern myself with, even while heated controversy swirls about, often consuming countless productivity hours of the less disciplined grownups who flounce around inelegantly with barely contained fixations on dental health, wearable carbon, you name it.
But for the fact that we were expecting the imminent delivery of a Physician's Report concerning the recent health crisis of our second lowest ranking member, we would have ignored the enigmatic, if short verbalization. Sadly, it turned out that my goggles had been mistakenly left in a faulty (and now removed) transit sack which now sat with other 'sacks of shit' (pun intended) on Loading Dock 4, so I had to make do with the only implement at my disposal which in this case was a miniature Founding Fathers Rookshell that would fit smartly on the inner crease of my scalar hat. I like to keep certain aspects private but in the event that I am forcibly removed, please know that I've always treasured the way your group refuses to stop ceasing to deny that they never did not know what wasn't not true, at least in hairy situations like this.
When my name came up in a meeting just before Summer break and it was attached to a now abandoned project, called simply 'The Project', I thought, mistakenly it turned out, that I could kiss my wife 'goodnight' for the second-to-last time in any given week. She's been leaking documents like a Dutch colander for over a year now and it seemed plain, to me at least, that our time was at hand, in a good way. When they fished her disheveled portfolio out of the community spillway we all agreed it was a small price to pay for what turned out to be a microscopic increase in the ambient comfort level afforded to us by virtue of the seriousness of our vocal inflections. As for anyone else, please get your numbers straight and plan to make your home in a future of burnished skin. You have my word.
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