d thought she was dying from something she knew intimately and that she didn’t know how to name. she thought that saying its name would mean her death,
i read an article about a director of a homeless program who was forced into a vehicle by a homeless man who was part of the program she spearheaded, b said.
i was told to see you at your downtown office, d said.
it’s my private office, b said.
she felt his flat gaze and wanted to go to another room with an animal in it that she could placate.
why did they send you to me, b said.
they say you’re good with middle aged women, d said.
i’m not supposed to be here, b said. they won’t know about my secondary office. even my wife doesn’t know about it. i come here when i need to be alone. i drink whisky. i make a few calls. i have someone come over or i drink alone. there are times a person should be by himself and times he shouldn’t. there are times he should place himself near bodies, as many bodies as he can find because whether we have conversation or not bodies communicate without us.
what do you mean, d said.
what i find strange you don’t necessarily find strange, b said.
i’m easily influenced when someone tells me sweet nothings, d said.
the heat has been raising gradually, b said. it’s warmer in here than room temperature. are you comfortable?
pardon, d said.
are you warm, b said.
i’m kind of mean, d said.
I see, b said. your hand is ice cold.

i’m in a minor depression d said. i have been in a deep depression and i don’t want to be in one again if i can help it. i don’t have the time, money or the energy for it. last week i waited to have congress with two men for an hour. when i opened the door to the room they were to be in i saw two closed windows, and a video monitor with a still image of cathedral on it. i was in my underwear on the orange brown office carpet and thought about what i should be thinking not having been given a suggestion. i listened to the podcast on mau mau. there were so many mind blowing things about the story:the hangar with the miles upon miles of documents, the systematic torture of the kenyans by the british, the retired diplomats redacting the files, the streamlined voices of the podcast. apparently, the two men had another plan and had used an unforeseen side door that led to a lobby and a kiosk.