There might have been a malaise in the office. I don’t know. Couldn’t quite feel it myself. Days would go by when a hush would fall upon the space. Everyone with their headphones on. Staring at whatever on their screen—maybe some tired old code, maybe The Times, Yahoo!, Fucked Company. When you got up and looked around, you could almost hear the click of a mouse.
“Neil, Alan’s in your office,” Robyn called out one day as Neil emerged from the elevator after lunch.
Neil stopped and turned to her. “Alan?”
“Alan.”
“Alan Epstein?”
“Yes.”
“He’s in my office?” Neil asked, pointing at his opened door.
“He’s at your desk.”
“He’s at my desk?”
“I think so,” Robyn replied airily.
Neil shook his head in bewilderment. I watched as he entered his office. Alan was standing behind the desk, poking through whatever was on it like you would a pile of magazines at a doctor’s office. Neil shut the door. It was the first time I’d ever seen Alan. It was the last time I ever saw Neil.