The scent of the air after it rains gives me the most poignant feelings. I have never experienced the like in all my years. It takes me to another time. Another place. I’m waiting for you under the eaves of tall dark-green trees. There are lone cottage houses standing in thick white mists. You approach and we stand just outside the wood where the grass rolls for miles. The absolute quiet is bliss and a gentle breeze slides against our ears, teasing our clothes and glancing off our ankles. We’re going for a walk.
Friday the tenth, twelve thirteen pm. Employees are walking around whispering in the corridors. And from the window on one side of the wall of their office, the manager can be seen repeatedly loosening his tie and scratching at his bald spot. He’s taken to coming to work without a coat. The office he shares with the co-director seems cramped and cluttered with chairs and used tea cups. The air inside is hot and the ceiling fan has been running non-stop since Monday. Footsteps echo along the laminate flooring outside their door. It’s been nine days since the end of the month and no one’s been paid.