Out-of-Office Hours

I entered the living room and stopped on the checkerboard carpet. The room smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap perfumes. The walls were painted industrial white. In the middle stood a table with an empty red ashtray. Around the table, two black leather armchairs, worn out where the butts meet the leather. A large TV stood in front of them, off, with a power light blinking red. I walked to the bookshelf behind the armchairs. The books were organized by cover color and size. In the corner past the bookshelf, I saw a urinal. The chrome-plated flush actuator stayed in the half-pressed position, and water flowed into the basin. I pulled the smallest orange book from the shelf and walked to the table. I placed a pack of cigarettes and my lighter next to the ashtray and sat in the armchair. I put the book in my lap, unopened, and waited.

“He won’t see you today,” I heard a voice behind me. I turned my head towards a grinning man in blue sportswear who stood in the doorway. “Go home,” he added. “I have time, I can wait,” I said, reached for the cigarette pack, pulled one out, and lit it with my lighter. The man came closer and grinned even more, “He won’t see you today.” “I heard you. Let me wait.” I puffed my smoke. He leaned and took a cigarette out of my pack. I could see a thin layer of tartar covering his yellow teeth. His lower gums were bleeding in a few spots. His smile widened past where a smile should stop. “Go home,” he said. I kept sitting with one hand on the book and the other holding the cigarette. He puffed on my cigarette and walked to the urinal. I didn’t turn around. I heard him pee. He walked back to the table with a smoke in his mouth, wiping his hands on his trousers. He looked at me, with a lit cigarette between yellow teeth, still grinning, then walked out of the room. The lights went off. The only thing I could see was the blinking TV power light and my lit smoke. I leaned in the armchair and finished smoking, flicking the ash to where I thought the ashtray should be. I squashed the cigarette butt, put the book on the armrest, and left, lighting the way with my lighter.