#92
What happened to the great reset, she said.
We’re on the 16th floor of the building downtown. It’s late afternoon. The air smells like stale coffee. People’s faces are shiny with day grease. Eyes are glassy. You can feel the expectation of leaving.
Me: the great reset?
Her: you know. The past few years.
I looked around and wondered if anyone else here had heard of it. Probably not. It seemed hopeless, this place.
Her: I need to pull back. I’m going to take my work email off my phone.
Me: why do you have it on there to begin with?
Her: you know. emergencies.
Me: yeah. emergencies.
Whatever had changed, whatever had morphed into what ever this is, whatever it had been, this was worse. This was 1000 times worse. And it felt like the beginning, not a continuation, not a newness, for sure not a reset.
Me: this place reeks.
She stares across the desks. The sky outside is a hot hazy. You can see the humidity.
I stood with my head on the windows looking down at the people below. What do the know of us, what do they think of our building, what do they care about me, about her, do they even know were here, why are we here?
Me: I need to go. I have to go.
Her: What should I tell them if they ask where you went?
Me: Tell them…I went to the fight.
Outside, I looked up at the building. I was one of them, never looking up, never asking what was going on, never thinking about who’s up there, never giving in, never.