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Rated: E · Short Story · Fantasy · #2195419
When our dreams speak to us, we must listen.
He hated coming into the office early. The silence of the street as he walked the four blocks to work, the sound of his worn work shoes rhythmically slapping the concrete. A momentary flashback of watching his father's feet walking the same path. He really missed his father. The memory was suddenly interrupted as an unfamiliar rhythm intertwined with his own. He recognized the sound of someone running behind him just in time to move out of the way. As a dark figure rushed past him almost knocking him into the lamppost, he yelled: "Hey watch where you're going douchebag". The figure kept running not even acknowledging his presence. "What an asshole" he muttered as he continued making his way to his office. His mind flashing back to the figure with irritation when an overwhelming feeling came over him that he knew that person. But how could that be, he didn't even get a good look at him. Just something about the figure...he shook his head and chalked it up to needing a large cup of coffee.

As he approached the building, he noticed old Mr. Hayward sitting at the security desk. He always pretended to be studying the monitors, but everyone knew that one of those monitors was set to some show or ball game. He greeted Mr. Hayward and made his way to the elevators. He thought he heard Mr. Hayward say something after his greeting and he turned around to ask him to repeat himself. Mr. Hayward was standing there holding a sheet of paper, "You dropped this Mr. Carter". He took the paper as he checked his bag, which was securely closed. "Uhm, thanks but I don't think I dropped anything". Mr. Hayward was already walking back to his station, his attention already back on whatever he was watching. The loud ding of the elevator prompted him that his ride was there. He got on and pushed 11 and made his way to the top floor.

When he exited the elevator and made his way down the hall, he realized he was still holding the paper. He looked down and read the small typeset:

"You should make time for yourself instead of wasting away in this building like your father"

He stopped abruptly in front of his office. He read the words again. "What the hell", he thought to himself. Where did this come from and who wrote this. The words were a little jarring. Growing up he had thought so many times that his father gave his life for this business. Spent too many days sitting in his office working, forsaking his family. He would tell himself, that wouldn't be him but when his father suddenly died sitting at his desk he stepped in and took over the business. First to appease his mother but then as if the building had claimed him, he felt compelled to be here behind his father's desk, looking out of the window, working. There was no family to forsake or maybe he had forsaken a family by never having one. Whatever it was, he put the letter into his bag, opened the office door and walked in.

The office is quiet in the morning and even though he hated being here this early, this was the best time to get ahead of the work. No annoying employees interrupting, phone calls to be made, or just the hustle and bustle of a business he didn't really want to run. He went into the office kitchen and the overwhelming smell of something rotten hit him and he noticed the trash. Damn, what is with this cleaning service. He pays them good money to come and clean the office every day and every day they forget something. One time they left a window opened and when he came in the office the next morning a family of birds had decided to use several of the desks as toilets. He was going to have to have Miriam fire them and hire a different company. He moved to the coffee machine and proceeded to dump yesterday's pot and make a fresh pot. This is the other good thing about early mornings, the first batch of freshly brewed coffee that he can enjoy. As the dark liquid began to percolate and fill the carafe, he moved over to the trash to tie it up. He walked out of the kitchen to the front door and stopped. Did he just see someone run into his office? "Hello", he called out. No answer. He let out a little laugh. "Man, I really need that coffee this morning", he thought to himself. He continued out of the office and down to the lobby and out the side door to dispose of the bag. Mr. Hayward was staring hard at the screen. That man really needs to get away. He walked outside being sure to prop the door. He quickly dropped the bag in the plastic green trash cans trying not to touch it with more than his two fingers. He turned around and looked up at the sky, noticing the blues and pinks as the sun begins to break through the darkness. It didn't register at first but then he saw it, or did he? A figure sitting on the ledge where his office window was. It was probably a bird but something about it just didn't seem right. He moved quickly to the door.

He made his way back to the lobby. Mr. Hayward looked at him with a weird stare when he made his way to the elevator. Wow, that guy really needs to stop watching tv. Mr. Hayward continued staring at him as he entered the elevator. He thought that was strange as Mr. Hayward hardly acknowledges him when he is there in the morning, but he just shrugged it off.

Entering his office, the smell of the coffee pulled him to the kitchen. He fixed his cup, closed his eyes and took a long, careful swig of the hot coffee. As he felt the liquid wash down his throat, his eyes popped open, the figure outside his window. He almost forgot the weirdness that was happening this morning. He made his way down the hallway to his office. The door was ajar, something else he would have to mention to Miriam, but then he saw it and he knew what he saw was not a bird.

As clear a day, a figure was sitting outside his window. The dawn of morning had not broken all the way, so the shadows hid the details of the figure. He stood there staring not knowing what to do or say, he felt his hand begin to burn and realized that his shaking hand was spilling coffee all over himself. He placed the cup on the table next to the door and began to walk towards the window. The figure began to turn towards him, and he realized that it was the asshole that nearly knocked him over this morning. "Whhooo" he began his voice cracking and stuttering. He cleared his throat and said loudly, "Who the hell are you and how the hell did you get in here?" He could see the figure in profile and realized that it was a man. The man smirked and slowly turned his head away from him, "You should make time for yourself instead of wasting away in this building like your father". Startled, he wasn't sure if he heard the man correctly, "Wwwwhat"? he shuttered as the words left his mouth.

The man stood up on the ledge and slowly turned around. The morning sky illuminating the man fully. What was he seeing? Is this real? That man felt familiar because he was looking at himself. He couldn't believe his eyes. He looked up at the figure of himself and heard it again "You should make time for yourself instead of wasting away in this building like your father". He wanted to ask him why he was there but as he stepped forward the figure spread his arms and fell backward. He ran towards the window and saw the figure staring up at him with a smile. He yelled down "Why are you here?" The figure laughed and said, "Turn off your alarm", "What" he called back. "Turn off your alarm".

He woke to the sound of his alarm clock blaring. It was 4 am. Time for him to get to the office. As he slid his blankets off and let his feet hit the floor, he noticed a sheet of paper lying next to his slippers. He leaned over and picked it up and noticed the familiar small typeset:

"You should make time for yourself instead of wasting away in this building like your father"

Startled, he let the paper fall from his hand. He reached over and picked up his phone and dialed the familiar number. A groggy female's voice answered, "Yes, sir are you okay?" He tried to calm the shaking in his voice, but he was sure he sounded like a scared 4-year-old calling his mommy after a bad dream "Miriam, I'm sorry to wake you at this hour but I won't be coming in today. As a matter of fact, I will be out of the office for the next two weeks. Tell Mitchell he is in charge until I get back." He hung up before she could ask any questions. He walked over to his computer and signed on. He purchased two round trip tickets and two hotel rooms., one to the Bahamas and one to California. He remembered Mr. Hayward telling him at some point that he had family in California.

He picked up his phone again and called the security desk in the building. Mr. Hayward's voice was barely audible. "Mr. Hayward, it's me, Tom Carter". "Yes, Mr. Carter is everything okay". He explained to the old man that everything was fine, he just wanted to show his gratitude for everything he did by sending him to California to visit his family. He had taken care of all the arrangements and the tickets would arrive by courier later that morning. Mr. Hayward was excited and thankful for the gesture and then got silent. He thought Mr. Hayward had hung up until he heard the old man's voice "Thank you and I am happy that you decided not to waste away in this building like your father". He sat there with the hum of the dial tone ringing in his ear.

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