They released me from that god-forsaken place after two years; I would like to think they just got bored of me. I never really bought into the things the doctors told me. My mom would visit occasionally and would always be smoking away in my room which really never helped anything. It was quite depressing. I missed the taste of liquor and how it made me feel numb. The doctors kept telling me that it was just a phase or that I would get over it. Eventually, I learned that it is not always about me. Occasionally, I wondered about Phoebe and what she was doing. I remembered when she looked up to me and all the time we spent together. She came to visit me a few times and told me that I was being selfish by not cooperating with the doctors, maybe I was mentally ill. After that she left and never came back. I got out about a year later and decided that I should try being a "productive member of society."
LAST WEEK The cold wind blew in my face as I walked down the busy streets of New York. I was late for my interview with James Plower the new CEO of Stollenmaier Industries. They manufacture phones which I think are pieces of trash. Why even bother making something if you don't really care about it. But my employer, The Times, put me on the story. Probably because I was just about the best writer in New York. The walk took about fifteen minutes; it was to expensive to take a taxi and the roads where horrible at this time of year anyway. When I arrived the snotty bastard had this smirk on his face, boy I hate when people have that stupid expression like they already know more than you. I shook his hand and he took me upstairs. There were about three floors and each one had a different look to it. The first one reminded me of the History Museum with the polished wood and neatly positioned cubicles and a small room for the boss. The second floor was undergoing construction and dust was visible throughout building. Finally, we reached the third floor which was quite stunning, I was surprised that most of the floor had giant glass windows that you could see out of. You rarely see those. I continued to follow him down a hallway with multiple rooms on either side of the hallway. Eventually we reached his office which was sophisticatedly decorated with black leather furniture and in the middle was a giant desk (you know, the ones you see in the movies with the Mafia bosses) and behind it a huge black chair. To the left of me was a smaller version.
"H-h-h-o-oowww arree you d-doing?" Plower said as he sat down in his chair
"I'm doing fine," I stated, already knowing his stutter was going to irritate the mess out of me
"So how is your company doing so far and do you find it hard to get clients?" I already knew the answer was yes because everyone complains how unreliable their phones are. One day I got fed up and threw mine off the balcony. The interview went on for about two hours and when it finished I was more than ecstatic. I started walking back down to the Times which was about fifteen minutes away. As I walked something caught my eye, a very familiar red hat.
I'll tell you more about that tomorrow....
