Working on a Saturday
The office, an old carpet factory, looms large and empty.
The corridors are long and quiet and freshly cleaned. I push the button for the elevator - wait and sip my coffee while I watch the numbers descend.
The elevator doors open and inside, in the corner, is a vacuum cleaner. On its own. I step inside.
“Going up?”
It, being a vacuum cleaner, says nothing.
We ride in silence to my floor. The doors open. I step out, turn back.
“Take care.”
The doors close.
