Don Draper (selfmadman) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-02-14 23:43:00 |
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It was Valentine's Day: Don rode back to the tower in a cab full of jazz, a snapped-off thread of perfume snared in the back seat's cracked leather. He had a headache, if you could have a headache without your head hurting. He'd banished the building's address from memory, couldn't stop embellishing the look on the cabbie's face when he'd called it by name. The cab tore off. He held a clinking cardboard box under one arm, a bag bought for swimming stuffed with shirts and ties. Between them he felt like another piece of mismatched luggage dumped on Stark's doorstep. Time was slick. They wouldn't let him in at first. There were questions tedious as a party game. He gave the wrong birthday. A supervisor was summoned to cycle through the questions again. She drawled his name; occasionally she popped it like gum. “He's fine,” she said, mouth twisting. She was already turning away. “Let him through while he can walk.” Don set the box down in the hall. Hung his hat on one of the bottles. He knocked on 1501: first out of habit, then because it was funny. Finally just to knock. |