Pigeons
I had the only remaining office in an old government building. My office was on the third floor in the rear with a view of an abandoned licorice warehouse. All day I would stare out the window and watch streams of pigeons fly in and out of the broken windows. Sometimes a peregrine falcon would swoop down right outside my window and snatch a pigeon in midair. Neither the falcon nor the pigeon made a sound. One day I came back from lunch to find my building's doors boarded up. Some men were putting a wood barrier around the building. One of the men said my building was slated for demolition. I took the bus across town to the main office, but a security guard told me the main office had closed and moved to Kansas City. Six months ago. I didn't know what to do then so I went home. I continued to receive pay checks for nine months, then they abruptly stopped. I didn't care. I had a new job by then.
Elephant
One day a woman named Rita Holmes Bobo called me. She wanted a copy of a report that I had never gotten around to writing. I told her I'd fax it to her, hoping that she'd forget about it. Sometimes people forget about things if you put them off long enough. I still didn't feel like doing the report. It was a hell of a lot of work, and I didn't see much point in it. I didn't see much point in anything I did at work. Rita Holmes Bobo continued to call, leaving messages on my voice mail. I got to hate Rita Holmes Bobo. She had a memory like a goddamn elephant. Finally she called my boss. "Who is Rita Holmes Bobo and what report is she talking about?" asked my boss. "It's all taken care of," I told him, crossing my fingers.
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