The view is great from up here.
Kelson Kel Andrews wears the look of a man seized by the anxiety of modernity. As he speaks, his words come from his mouth like embers from a burnt pile of wood, spitting into the air, but falling to the earth, dead and silent. He is from the older generation of San Francisco immigrants, originally one of those nameless and faceless thousands that moved to the peninsula for a better life, but realized too quickly of the stagnation already erupting here, destroying the mountains from within.
Being an older man, he shows signs of his age, including a forming belly that dips into his belt, a pale unshaven face, and two glossed eyes hidden by thin wire framed glasses. He wears a button up shirt, but has opted not to wear his silk tie that he bought specifically for the office, and because of this today he has felt oddly naked. He remarks to himself that this is a good feeling, a feeling he has not felt for a long time.
The city sure is ugly though, a woman says, sitting across the table from Kelson. Her name is Veronica Duderly. She is around the same age as Kelson. Her long brown hair is heated to waves, and falls down her neck like a beautiful river, and within the capture of hair is a slightly chubby face, with plump cheekbones, kind eyes, but a disapproving brow. She works at the same office as Kelson, Johnson Insurance, a new startup insurance company with the idea that insurance on the internet will soon take over formal paper heavy insurance.
She is wearing a pink blouse, with a tiny gold necklace hanging around her neck. She wears an ankh ring on her right hand, and fingers it tenaciously as she scans the city below. She decided to join Kelson on this lunch at a revolving restaurant at the top of one of San Francisco's premiere hotels, only because one of her girlfriends in the office told her Kelson had an eye for her, and she wanted to tell him out of the office that she was not interested. It had bothered her for some time that she always saw him staring at her during work.
Outside, a wandering cloud passes by, and a flurry of birds shoots out of the cloud, diving down between two close buildings, and reappearing like a flock of silk. As she sees the birds, Veronica follows them, and for a moment thinks of beauty, although she is still bothered by his eyes probing her over just in the past five minutes.
The elevator dings. Kelson turns to look at the new group of people to come to the to, but something catches his eye. A man dressed in a clown costume comes out of the elevator, wearing a jesters cap, and holding in his hand a long glass rod. He swings the rod, and speaks to one of the waitresses. Her eyes are seemingly puzzled, and she stares at the rod and the hat of this odd man.
I'd like a table for twelve, he says, but Kelson notes his voice is like water, and as he hears the words, there is almost an echo of sound. Its as if this mans voice blended in with five other voices, and when he spoke he sang.
The waitress freezes. The man smiles, showing her a mouth full of golden teeth, and at this the waitress picks up her red phone and speaks into it. A few moments later, the manager comes out, and politely asks the strange man to step into the elevator, as he is bothering some of the customers.
The man swings his rod, and suddenly he is gone, vanished from the very place he stood, but also the manager and the waitress is gone. Kelson continues to stare, not sure of what he just saw.
Veronica prods him with a long nailed finger.
Hey. You're all spaced out.
Kelson turns back to her, and doesn't know what to say.
She saves the moment. Look, I'm really not interested in you. Thats all I wanted to say. Ok?
He silently eats his fish.
Kelson Kel Andrews wears the look of a man seized by the anxiety of modernity. As he speaks, his words come from his mouth like embers from a burnt pile of wood, spitting into the air, but falling to the earth, dead and silent. He is from the older generation of San Francisco immigrants, originally one of those nameless and faceless thousands that moved to the peninsula for a better life, but realized too quickly of the stagnation already erupting here, destroying the mountains from within.
Being an older man, he shows signs of his age, including a forming belly that dips into his belt, a pale unshaven face, and two glossed eyes hidden by thin wire framed glasses. He wears a button up shirt, but has opted not to wear his silk tie that he bought specifically for the office, and because of this today he has felt oddly naked. He remarks to himself that this is a good feeling, a feeling he has not felt for a long time.
The city sure is ugly though, a woman says, sitting across the table from Kelson. Her name is Veronica Duderly. She is around the same age as Kelson. Her long brown hair is heated to waves, and falls down her neck like a beautiful river, and within the capture of hair is a slightly chubby face, with plump cheekbones, kind eyes, but a disapproving brow. She works at the same office as Kelson, Johnson Insurance, a new startup insurance company with the idea that insurance on the internet will soon take over formal paper heavy insurance.
She is wearing a pink blouse, with a tiny gold necklace hanging around her neck. She wears an ankh ring on her right hand, and fingers it tenaciously as she scans the city below. She decided to join Kelson on this lunch at a revolving restaurant at the top of one of San Francisco's premiere hotels, only because one of her girlfriends in the office told her Kelson had an eye for her, and she wanted to tell him out of the office that she was not interested. It had bothered her for some time that she always saw him staring at her during work.
Outside, a wandering cloud passes by, and a flurry of birds shoots out of the cloud, diving down between two close buildings, and reappearing like a flock of silk. As she sees the birds, Veronica follows them, and for a moment thinks of beauty, although she is still bothered by his eyes probing her over just in the past five minutes.
The elevator dings. Kelson turns to look at the new group of people to come to the to, but something catches his eye. A man dressed in a clown costume comes out of the elevator, wearing a jesters cap, and holding in his hand a long glass rod. He swings the rod, and speaks to one of the waitresses. Her eyes are seemingly puzzled, and she stares at the rod and the hat of this odd man.
I'd like a table for twelve, he says, but Kelson notes his voice is like water, and as he hears the words, there is almost an echo of sound. Its as if this mans voice blended in with five other voices, and when he spoke he sang.
The waitress freezes. The man smiles, showing her a mouth full of golden teeth, and at this the waitress picks up her red phone and speaks into it. A few moments later, the manager comes out, and politely asks the strange man to step into the elevator, as he is bothering some of the customers.
The man swings his rod, and suddenly he is gone, vanished from the very place he stood, but also the manager and the waitress is gone. Kelson continues to stare, not sure of what he just saw.
Veronica prods him with a long nailed finger.
Hey. You're all spaced out.
Kelson turns back to her, and doesn't know what to say.
She saves the moment. Look, I'm really not interested in you. Thats all I wanted to say. Ok?
He silently eats his fish.
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