Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe

Chapter 5

Moe descended on the safety line, looking at the glass that was not perfectly clean, but also not in an urgent need of a thorough cleaning. Using glass-cleaning robots, which worked in the corners somewhat poorly but overall, quite effectively, would have sufficed instead of calling another industrial climber. He shrugged his shoulders in confusion and dipped a sponge into soapy water, squeezing it lazily. He wasn't in the mood to work, but Moe had depleted all the banquet money over the week. The prospect of working as a loader didn't exactly warm his soul either. There were no people in the office inside the glass droplet. Though Moe wouldn't mind catching another glimpse of Einar and pondering how he would react. Would he pretend they did not know each other or perhaps nod knowingly through the glass?

Curiosity was feeble, almost negligible. Moe didn't cling to his past lovers; they had shared enjoyable orgasms, and that was enough. There was no need to tarnish the pleasant aftertaste by attempting to initiate a non-relationship that neither party truly desired. It was apparent that the billionaire did not need Moe- the drop-shaped office in the upscale building clearly belonged to a billionaire, not a millionaire- their life trajectories were never meant to intersect, and the accidental crossing was more of an exception to the rule, proving the principle that a slum dweller and a wealthy man existed in different dimensions.

This time, cleaning was much easier. The recently used cleaning robots had left the large expanse of glass gleaming, requiring Moe to focus only on the corners and remove some bird droppings. As he worked, he hummed a medley of songs, his hands moving mechanically while his mind wandered. Absent-mindedly, he contemplated where to spend the upcoming winter and considered the prospect of taking on a job as a janitor in a hotel complex. The memory of the previous winter sent a shudder down his spine, and he was determined not to endure a repeat. In that ill-fated winter, he had underestimated the harshness of the season, expecting to survive it in the city like Henley. The consequence was a near-death experience from pneumonia, followed by prolonged wheezing. While wiping away another droplet of avian "blessing," Moe pondered the possibility of heading to Vegas. The city was always in need of industrial climbers to clean windows and colossal signs. It seemed like a place where he could lead a contented life, moving from one part-time job to another, and perhaps even get a room from a cleaning company.

The idea was alluring, prompting Moe to casually drop the sponge into the bucket of soapy water. Retrieving the IQOS, he inserted a stick and took a drag, hanging on the safety line with a smile. It was as if he could perpetually float weightlessly between heaven and earth, avoiding the complexities of life. The sun passionately kissed his face, dissipating the sweat and leaving him feeling good and liberated—until a persistent knock-knock-knock-knock interrupted his leisurely reverie. Opening one eye, Moe grinned at the sight of a composed Einar on the freshly cleaned glass, engrossed in a phone conversation.

Einar finished the call, put the phone in his pocket, and gesticulated clearly. He spun his hand in the air, signaling winding down, pointed at himself, and mimicked eating—apparently, Einar intended to treat him once more. Moe hummed in surprise, arching his eyebrows, but after a brief consideration, he nodded—why not? He was always hungry, especially now after an hour and a half of work. Moe nodded again, making a sweeping motion with three fingers to denote the remaining windows, but Einar shook his head in disagreement. He tapped his finger on his wristwatch and twirled his hand again, indicating that Moe should wrap everything up.

Moe persisted, shaking his head and rubbing his fingers together to convey he needed to get paid. He then showed three fingers again. Einer, conceding defeat, sighed, took out his phone, dialed a number, and silently spoke behind the shatterproof glass. A minute later, Moe's phone rang, but he didn't answer. Instead, he smiled brightly, pointed to the phone, and then to Einer, who reciprocated the gesture with a smiling nod. It became clear—Einer had set things in motion to get what he wanted, and Moe wasn't surprised to hear the anxious office manager on the phone, "Complete the job as it is. You will be paid in full. Mr. Simmons wishes to see you."