The pastel pink walls clashed hideously with the mint green fabric of the couches in the lobby. The walls were sparsely decorated, save for the occasional mirror or frame, strategically placed to cover up the cracks in the paint. He sat on the end of the couch, with his hands glued to his knees. He drummed his fingers, his patience wearing thin. He stared blankly at the carpeted floor, dull blue and mottled with coffee stains.
Tobacco smoke bellowed into the air, thick winding columns rising up from a mouth at the other end of the couch. Prior to this point he had not noticed the other man, he wondered how that could have been. He was awash with guilt. He had been so rude, so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he had been blind to another person's existence. It was the height of ignorance and utterly out of character.
He turned his head to face the man. The beginnings of an apology forming in his mouth gave way to silence. The man was staring right at him, his cold blue eyes, framed by thick black glasses, peering over the top of a newspaper. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly lowered the paper and folded it neatly across his lap. He took the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled an impossibly long breath through his nose, filling the space between them with a thin mist of smoke.
"Tell me," the man spoke, his voice quiet yet rough as gravel, "have you been here long?"
"I," he hesitated and fell silent. How long had he been there? He looked to his naked wrist and then up at the wall behind him in search of a clock, "Not long," he said finally.
"Me neither, thankfully," he chuckled. "The name's David."
"Fritz," he introduced himself, "nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet me? No, whats nice is to have a little company," he smiled.
The hum of the blue neon light behind them grew and interrupted their small-talk. The bright tubes of light depicted a giant wave, poised to break. The light seemed to pulse for a moment before returning to its duller, quieter state.
"I tell ya, these old buildings and their wiring," David laughed, "whole damn place needs tearing down and rebuilding."
"Absolutely," Fritz agreed, "did you notice all of the water damage on the way in?"
"I swear my head is in the clouds so much these days, I must've missed it," David replied.
Fritz thought back to entering the building, trying to picture the leaking pipes. An image he felt was once clear in his mind, a defined memory, now seemed distorted and manifested in several different ways. The more he tried to replay it in his mind, the more he lost his grip on what had happened, much like a half remembered memory from childhood.
"This place is a dump," Fritz said, holding a hand out and gesturing to the room.
"Sure ain't what it used to be," David nodded in agreement, "it could do with a lick of paint."
"At least," Fritz replied. "Have you been here before?"
"You know what?" he began, looking around the room again, "I thought that I had, but I'm not so sure now, it might have been somewhere else. I imagine you'd remember being in a place like this. To be honest, I couldn't even tell you where we are, I took a cab here."
"Me too," Fritz admitted, "the ride wasn't long, but I fell asleep in the back."
"So, what are you in for?" David asked, moving closer and offering him a cigarette.
He accepted the cigarette and leaned forward to light it as David held out a flame. He took a deep drag and exhaled through his nostrils. He placed a hand to his forehead and looked somewhat lost.
"I think my wife booked me in," he said, unsure of himself. "I guess she spoke to them over the phone."
"What would we do without them?" David jested.
A droplet fell from a dark patch in the ceiling and disappeared into the carpet. The pair of them looked up and followed a second droplet falling, only to see it vanish into the same spot.
Opposite them a third man was seated, his face hidden behind a newspaper. He lowered it as he turned the page, pausing upon meeting their awed gaze.
"May I help you, gentlemen?" he asked gruffly.
David and Fritz looked at one another dumbfounded. The man opposite cleared his throat and placed the paper to one side, waiting for an answer. David shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair, relaxing back into the couch.
"I'm sorry," he chuckled, "I can't believe we didn't see you there. You must think us so incredibly rude. My name's David," he smiled politely.
"I'm Fritz," Fritz introduced, "have you been here long?"
"Edwin," he said, tapping his chest.
The man frowned and looked down at his watch. He tapped the face and then looked about for a moment, before turning back to the pair opposite.
"Not very long," he said absently.
"Us neither," David smiled, offering him a cigarette.
"What brings you here today?" Fritz asked.
Edwin sunk a hand into his jacket and pulled a diary from a pocket. He thumbed through it slowly, before sighing and laughing softly to himself.
"My secretary made the appointment," he told them, "looks like I forgot to write it down."
The three of them chuckled amongst themselves, bellowing smoke out into the room. The neon lights fizzed loudly, momentarily stealing their attention.
"Your paper's a little out of date there," David remarked reigniting the conversation, "I'll let you take a look at mine, when I go in."
Edwin glanced at the paper and looked a little puzzled. Quickly his confusion gave way to irritation and his features tightened.
"Thanks. Those idiots at the stall must've given me the wrong one," he decided. "Either of you see what happened in the game last night?"
"Which one?" Fritz probed.
"Which one?" Edwin repeated incredulously, "you mean you didn't hear about it?"
"No," Fritz answered flatly.
"It was uh..." he paused and rubbed his temples, "the game! You know, the big game?"
"I guess it couldn't have been that eventful," David sniggered.
Edwin closed his eyes as he tried to remember what had happened in the previous night's game. After a few seconds, he was not entirely sure what sport it was that he had been watching. Just as he thought that he might be making progress, his attempts to retrieve the memory were interrupted.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," a man sitting a few seats down from Edwin spoke softly.
The three of them looked across to him and then back at one another, collectively wondering how they had failed to notice him. He folded up his newspaper and placed it on top of a nearby trash can.
"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation," he cleared his throat, "I saw the game, although perhaps I dozed off as I can't quite recall it now. Have you been here long?"
