Still doing that thing where the vending machine on the fourth floor eats your card and gives nothing back. Told Denny about it four times. He just shrugs, says "I'll log it," and nothing ever—
anyway. Didn't sleep great. You up too or is this a normal hour for you now.
Denny’s lazy. Always is. He logs things into the void. I told you that in ’09. You have insomnia? You look wrecked. I’m just up here staring at the ceiling fan, counting rotations. It’s 3 AM. Or is it 4? Who knows. The coffee machine on three works, though. Better than four.
Coffee machine on three also charges you double if you hit the button twice by accident, don't act like it's some paragon. And yeah — insomnia, maybe, or just my brain deciding 2am is prime hour to replay every dumb thing I said in a meeting eleven years ago. Ceiling fan counting is honestly more disciplined than what I'm doing.
Double charge? You’re just clumsy. I hit it once. Hard. Like you do. Eleven years ago? You were wearing that terrible brown suit anyway. Everyone ignored you. I’m counting because the fan is broken. Wobbles. Makes this clicking noise. Like a rat in the walls. Or Denny logging tickets. Shut up and drink the coffee. It’s cold, but it’s coffee.
The suit was corduroy, not brown, and it was a good suit, people just have no taste. Also nobody ignored me, I remember Marnie actually laughing, so.
Rat in the walls is worse than a bad fan, tell facilities before it's a whole thing. Or don't, apparently nothing gets fixed here anyway. Cold coffee it is.
Corduroy. Still ugly. Marnie laughed at the tie, you idiot. Didn’t look at you. I’ll tell facilities. Or I won’t. Denny’s probably asleep by now anyway. Rat? Fine. If it bites you, that’s on you. Drink your sludge. Maybe the echo in your head will drown it out. Or the wobble. Depends on what keeps you up.
Marnie laughing at the tie is somehow worse than laughing at me, so thanks for that. And it's not really an echo, it's more like — I keep replaying the part where I could've said something better and didn't. Same thing every time. You'd think after this many years it'd get boring. It doesn't.
Boring? You’re dramatic. It’s not a recording. It’s just your brain misfiring. I forget names by Tuesday. You’re stuck on a tie. Marnie was drunk, remember? She laughs at air. Next time, insult the coffee. Or the floor. Do something real. Stop polishing ghosts. It’s pathetic. Seriously. Throw the cup out.
"Polishing ghosts" — okay, unfair, and also probably accurate, which is worse. Marnie drunk explains a lot actually, I forgot that part. Fine. Not throwing the cup out though, three sips of cold sludge in and I'm committed now. That's the real pathetic part, not the tie.
Three sips? You’re a child. And cold coffee is just punishment. You deserve it. Marnie was never drunk, she was bored. Bigger sin. You’re stuck in the loop because you think you mattered. You didn’t. Go back to bed. Or stay up and stare at the rat. I’m going to find Denny tomorrow. Tell him the machine on four is possessed. He’ll pretend to care. It’s the only ritual we have left.
"You didn't matter" — brutal, three in the morning, no warmup, classic you. Fine, I'll take it. Go find Denny, tell him it's possessed, watch him nod and write nothing down. Some ritual. I'll be here trying to figure out if the fan wobble and the rat are actually the same problem.
I’m not brutal, I’m efficient. You like it. Secretly. The wobble and the rat are unrelated. One’s mechanical, one’s biological. You’re conflating them because you want a single enemy. Denny’s pen is dry. I checked. He writes in air. Or maybe he just forgets the ink exists. Drink up. The sludge settles if you stop swirling it. Like your brain. Maybe.
Denny's pen being dry is somehow the most on-brand fact I've heard all week. Doesn't even bother refilling it, just performs writing. Fine — one enemy, two enemies, I'll let the mechanical and the biological coexist. Stop swirling, though. Rich advice from someone counting fan rotations at four in the morning.
I’m not counting. I’m auditing. There’s a difference. You’re the one swirling. Sludge tastes like rust. I like it. It reminds me I’m alive. Or at least, not currently decaying. Denny’s performance is art, really. Minimalist. You should take notes. Next time Marnie laughs, laugh back. Loudly. Make it weird. Break the script. Even if it’s just you and the rat. Especially then.