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“It’s a wonder how I let you off when you refuse to listen to me.” I mused, rotating in the swivel chair in his office.
He chuckled.
“Are you not afraid of getting laid off?” I asked.
“No,” he grumpily said.
“Really?” I scoffed.
“Yes,”
“Why? You have a job elsewhere? Do you do it part-time?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“What then is it?” I wanted to know.
He relaxed into his chair.
“Fortunately, I have a friend who is poor at recognizing sycophants all in the name of philanthropy.” He calmly but firmly said.
I burst out laughing.
“What brought about that?”
“Just a few memories.” He arrogantly shrugged.
“Wow, Mason!”
He was unbelievable.
“When did I ever fend for sycophants? I want to know.”
“Well, I do not want to talk about it. It’s best if you recollect on your own.” He continued with his work, tapping away on his computer.
“Dude!” I couldn’t stop laughing.
We mutually thought it was pretty good to have a few drinks in the office rather than in a regular bar where he commented we could “fall prey to Delilahs.”
However, “Delilah” soon changed to “Dolly”.
Dolly was the name he fondly called Cherie, his wife. I had not heard him call her that in a long time now, as it had become forbidden since their separation.
“Dolly, what’s with her? Are you tipsy?” I queried.
It was crystal clear that he missed Cherie, but the pitiable situation they were in prevented him from actualizing his desires.
“I’m not.” He frowned. “It was a slip.”
“Would you admit that you miss her now?” I asked when he would not answer my first question.
He cleared his throat and restlessly rubbed his eyes.
“She lives two doors away from my house, you know.” I casually said.
“What?” His eyes immediately lit up as if he had discovered some sort of invaluable fortune.
“I think that means you can see her whenever you want to,” I added.
