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Office

August 10, 2011 in O

By Jason Dunn

 

On weekends, I used to go back to the small office where I’d had my last job. The doors were always locked. It was part of a larger complex of other offices.

Outside, there was a covered walkway with a corrugated iron covering that I could climb on top of and just sit in the warm sun. I was up there one day when I heard footsteps below me. It wasn’t until she was standing at the doors that I could see Louise from behind.

She had changed her hair, and was wearing some casual clothes I’d never seen before. I was only about five metres away. If I’d moved, she would’ve heard the metal underneath me and looked. I kept my eyes downcast as she got set up inside. People don’t sense you as much when you’re not trying to make eye contact. Even so, Louise seemed uneasy. She’d left the office doors open and I could see straight in. Eventually, she sat at her desk with her back to me. I could see her computer screen, and watched it eagerly. I was about to find out all her secrets. Louise checked her work e-mail. I don’t think she’d received anything, and she didn’t send anything. After that, she opened a spreadsheet, checked some papers on her desk, and started typing sporadically.

I was thinking of some way to get out of my situation when to my surprise, Roger and Cathy came out of the office doors and stopped there, talking. Roger was the boss and Cathy was his executive assistant. Cathy and I had been good friends when I worked there. We’d had lunch together most days, and had our own collection of private jokes. I hadn’t seen her in a long time. She was thinner now. She was wearing a professional-looking, black pants suit. Under the open jacket, she wore an orange dress shirt. There was a thin line of her olive-skinned midriff visible. I couldn’t resist looking at her face. Her make-up was different and her hair had recently been cut in the same style as before. She looked up at me and screamed.

I cast my eyes downward again.

“What’s wrong?” Roger asked.

“I think I just saw a ghost,” I heard Cathy say.

I knew Roger was looking right where I was, but I wouldn’t raise my eyes to him.

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Tree

August 1, 2011 in T

By Jason Dunn

 

The phone buzzed again. Martin took it from his pocket and checked the caller ID.

“Dad, this isn’t a good time.”

“Marty, I want you to know I’ve called the police.”

“What?”

“I don’t like the idea of you turning to a life of crime.”

“Dad, it’s just a free Christmas tree I’m going to cut down.”

“That’s how it starts.”

“But this was your idea. I didn’t want to do it.”

“I know. I don’t want you to feel that you have to follow in my footsteps, Marty. I want you to be your own man.”

“I am my own man. I’m only out here because of some stupid story you told about how you used to get Christmas trees for us.”

“I was lucky.”

“What does that mean?”

“I was lucky I didn’t get caught.”

“Did you really call the police?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you call me afterwards?”

“I felt bad. I thought you should know.”

Martin screwed up his face in anger and jumped up and down, stamping his feet on the ground.

“Dad, I’m telling your carers not to let you use the phone.”

“Why? What have I done?”

“Dad, I’m the manager of the town supermarket. What if this gets into the local paper?”

“Then your customers will know the kind of man they’ve been shopping from.”

“You said you used to come out here and do the same thing.”

“Times have changed.”

“How?”

There was a pause on the line.

“There are fewer trees now,” the old man said.

“Dad, I am not getting caught out here like this. I’m turning around right now and coming back.”

“I’ve already told the police your name. They’ll be able to find you no matter where you go.”

“Where do you expect me to go? Argentina?”

“Oh I hope not. I hope that you’ll face the music instead of running away. That would make me proud.”

“I wouldn’t have to face anything if you hadn’t called the police.”

“Don’t blame others for your lot in life, son.”

“Oh great, I can see the red and blue lights through the trees.”

“You’re on your own now son. I can only hope I brought you up right. Don’t forget your old man. I’ll be thinking of you.”

“I’m not going to forget…”

Martin’s father hung up.

The whole incident made it into the local paper.

 

 

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