Wake
An Aesthetic sham
Mr. William Little thought himself one of the more prosperous men in the city. The window of his office overlooked the scaffolds and cranes that surrounded the building of his design. He often looked at the tower with pride, watching as it grew taller with each day that passed. Some days he did little else but gaze out the window. However, a single thing spoiled Mr. Little’s satisfaction, one little blemish on the city’s skyline tarnished the sight for him entirely: the building next to his. William knew the man who built it, indeed he knew him, a Mr. Richard Longabaugh. Although utterly and supremely confident that his building would be the most profitable and appealing office complex ever put to earth, competition in such close proximity made him anxious. He didn’t like it in his eyesight. Over the weeks of admiring his tower, Mr. Little had become adept at glancing at just the right angle to avoid Mr. Longabaugh’s tower from entering his eyesight. Somehow whenever he caught a glimpse of the other tower, he’d see his flabby jowls and thinning hair reflected in the polished glass.
On this afternoon, William had done nothing but catch little glimpses of Mr. Longabaugh’s building. It’d successfully soured his mood. Although the day was still young, he’d already snapped at his secretary, the pretty one with dark hair and a permanent sullen frown. Deciding to take a break from all the work he wasn’t doing and escape the stuffy feeling of his sprawling office, Mr. Little took to the little coffee shop next door, the sort of place where college kids with beards liked to hang out after lectures. Everything there was overpriced and William barely liked coffee, but he usually went there at least once a day anyway. When he walked in, Mr. Little almost instantly recognized a man sitting casually and inconspicuously in the corner.
Richard Longabaugh.
Slightly taller than average, decently handsome, adequately dressed, but more or less unremarkable, he was the definition of moderately attractive. But, he had a full head of immaculately coiffed hair.
Repulsed and enraged by the presence of this man, Mr. Little prepared to turn back and exit posthaste. Alas, before he could, Richard caught sight of him.
“Willie!” He cried, and so William turned to face the man with a plastic grin.
“It's been a while, Dick, how've ya been?” The two exchanged a hearty handshake and the gauntlet was dropped. William could no longer run, he had to face this demon like a man. He took the seat across from Richard.
“I heard you were building down the road, so I thought I’d run into you at some point, though it’s been a while. Have you been chained to the ol’ office, buddy?” Mr. Longabaugh chuckled and punched Mr. Little on the shoulder, an old mannerism of his. William resisted the urge to brush off the area of his jacket where he was touched.
“Yeah, more or less. I’ve barely had the time for even a cigarette break lately!” William chuckled as well. He felt exceedingly humourless. One of the cafe waiters delivered a cup of coffee to the table. William visited frequently enough for most of the staff to know his order by heart. Luckily, Richard wasn’t the sort to notice such things.
“Still working yourself to the bone, eh, Willie? You were the same back in school, those were some good times. I guess some things never change.” Mr. Little felt insulted. Granted, there’s no way Richard could’ve known he spent all day looking out windows and playing with rubber bands, but he read malice in his tone anyway. William laughed and agreed anyway. “By the way,” Continued Mr. Longabaugh, “how have you and Lacie been?”
“Same as always.” He replied, nonchalantly sipping his coffee. He wasn’t a big fan of his wife. She hated him.
“Now that I think of it, I bumped into her a few days ago.” Said Richard.
“Oh, yeah?” At this point, Mr. Little’s attention had shifted completely to his coffee. He fastidiously prepared it, pouring in sugar only several grains at a time.
“Yeah. She’s sweet as ever. You’re a very lucky man, you know?” William snorted, pretending to cough. “She asked me about my construction.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“She complimented the architecture.” Mr. Longabaugh spoke, “Coming from someone with as discerning an eye as hers... well, that really meant something.” This drew Mr. Little’s attention from his coffee mug. Lacie hardly ever had a nice thing to say him, much less his construction. She’d often say that, knowing him, he’d give up before the building was finished. The lack of affection from his wife meant nothing anymore. If she’d curl up beside him and purr he’d be more afraid than if she drew a knife to him. What hurt him more was the fact that she’d complemented Longabaugh. He rarely received compliments for his tower, in fact he couldn’t remember any.
“Well,” muttered Willie, “My secretary has been very interested in construction lately, what with architecture...” Richard grinned.
“The one with the dark hair?” He asked, “I didn’t think she’d be the type!”
“You know her?” Mr. Little appeared surprised.
“Not well. I’ve ran into her here and there. It’s a bit of a shame she always wears that frown, she has such a pretty smile.” Mr. Little had never seen her smile; until now he’d been quite certain she lacked the ability.
“Yeah... she does...” He was unable to mask his irrational annoyance.
The waiter returned with their bill after about half a minute of an excruciating silence in which each second ticked by as an eternity and a palpable awkward in the air like the scent of carrion. Finding this the excellent time to leave, William began reaching for his wallet, however before he could make the move, Mr. Longabaugh had already placed money on the table. His face bore a smile of innocent generosity, as if he paid for Mr. Little’s drink as a kind gesture to an old friend rather than some kind of power play.
It enraged him.
Mr. Little had an instinctive reflex to take his scone and hurl it against the wall or bite off a chunk of his flesh or piss on him or something like that. He wanted to remove each bone from his body, crush them into a fine powder then swallow them, leaving Richard a strange sack of boneless human. Instead, he simply and cordially thanked him, bid him good afternoon, and left. Directly outside, he faced Mr. Longabough’s tower, he couldn’t avoid it’s sight. For a split second, Perhaps due to his encounter with the man for himself, he saw the building as what it truly was for the first time, an innocuous stack of metal and glass. William sighed out his irritation and began walking back. He wished to nap in his office after the day’s excitement. In the elevator, he looked out the window at the construction of his building.
It really was worse.
On this afternoon, William had done nothing but catch little glimpses of Mr. Longabaugh’s building. It’d successfully soured his mood. Although the day was still young, he’d already snapped at his secretary, the pretty one with dark hair and a permanent sullen frown. Deciding to take a break from all the work he wasn’t doing and escape the stuffy feeling of his sprawling office, Mr. Little took to the little coffee shop next door, the sort of place where college kids with beards liked to hang out after lectures. Everything there was overpriced and William barely liked coffee, but he usually went there at least once a day anyway. When he walked in, Mr. Little almost instantly recognized a man sitting casually and inconspicuously in the corner.
Richard Longabaugh.
Slightly taller than average, decently handsome, adequately dressed, but more or less unremarkable, he was the definition of moderately attractive. But, he had a full head of immaculately coiffed hair.
Repulsed and enraged by the presence of this man, Mr. Little prepared to turn back and exit posthaste. Alas, before he could, Richard caught sight of him.
“Willie!” He cried, and so William turned to face the man with a plastic grin.
“It's been a while, Dick, how've ya been?” The two exchanged a hearty handshake and the gauntlet was dropped. William could no longer run, he had to face this demon like a man. He took the seat across from Richard.
“I heard you were building down the road, so I thought I’d run into you at some point, though it’s been a while. Have you been chained to the ol’ office, buddy?” Mr. Longabaugh chuckled and punched Mr. Little on the shoulder, an old mannerism of his. William resisted the urge to brush off the area of his jacket where he was touched.
“Yeah, more or less. I’ve barely had the time for even a cigarette break lately!” William chuckled as well. He felt exceedingly humourless. One of the cafe waiters delivered a cup of coffee to the table. William visited frequently enough for most of the staff to know his order by heart. Luckily, Richard wasn’t the sort to notice such things.
“Still working yourself to the bone, eh, Willie? You were the same back in school, those were some good times. I guess some things never change.” Mr. Little felt insulted. Granted, there’s no way Richard could’ve known he spent all day looking out windows and playing with rubber bands, but he read malice in his tone anyway. William laughed and agreed anyway. “By the way,” Continued Mr. Longabaugh, “how have you and Lacie been?”
“Same as always.” He replied, nonchalantly sipping his coffee. He wasn’t a big fan of his wife. She hated him.
“Now that I think of it, I bumped into her a few days ago.” Said Richard.
“Oh, yeah?” At this point, Mr. Little’s attention had shifted completely to his coffee. He fastidiously prepared it, pouring in sugar only several grains at a time.
“Yeah. She’s sweet as ever. You’re a very lucky man, you know?” William snorted, pretending to cough. “She asked me about my construction.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“She complimented the architecture.” Mr. Longabaugh spoke, “Coming from someone with as discerning an eye as hers... well, that really meant something.” This drew Mr. Little’s attention from his coffee mug. Lacie hardly ever had a nice thing to say him, much less his construction. She’d often say that, knowing him, he’d give up before the building was finished. The lack of affection from his wife meant nothing anymore. If she’d curl up beside him and purr he’d be more afraid than if she drew a knife to him. What hurt him more was the fact that she’d complemented Longabaugh. He rarely received compliments for his tower, in fact he couldn’t remember any.
“Well,” muttered Willie, “My secretary has been very interested in construction lately, what with architecture...” Richard grinned.
“The one with the dark hair?” He asked, “I didn’t think she’d be the type!”
“You know her?” Mr. Little appeared surprised.
“Not well. I’ve ran into her here and there. It’s a bit of a shame she always wears that frown, she has such a pretty smile.” Mr. Little had never seen her smile; until now he’d been quite certain she lacked the ability.
“Yeah... she does...” He was unable to mask his irrational annoyance.
The waiter returned with their bill after about half a minute of an excruciating silence in which each second ticked by as an eternity and a palpable awkward in the air like the scent of carrion. Finding this the excellent time to leave, William began reaching for his wallet, however before he could make the move, Mr. Longabaugh had already placed money on the table. His face bore a smile of innocent generosity, as if he paid for Mr. Little’s drink as a kind gesture to an old friend rather than some kind of power play.
It enraged him.
Mr. Little had an instinctive reflex to take his scone and hurl it against the wall or bite off a chunk of his flesh or piss on him or something like that. He wanted to remove each bone from his body, crush them into a fine powder then swallow them, leaving Richard a strange sack of boneless human. Instead, he simply and cordially thanked him, bid him good afternoon, and left. Directly outside, he faced Mr. Longabough’s tower, he couldn’t avoid it’s sight. For a split second, Perhaps due to his encounter with the man for himself, he saw the building as what it truly was for the first time, an innocuous stack of metal and glass. William sighed out his irritation and began walking back. He wished to nap in his office after the day’s excitement. In the elevator, he looked out the window at the construction of his building.
It really was worse.
