Room 2D

By Tim Starfield from Februs 6 What am I doing here? Well, that’s two questions really, isn’t it. One practical, one psychological. To deal with the practicalities first. What I’m actually doing, right now, is looking intently at a small speck of dirt under the third fingernail of my left hand. I don’t suppose anyone else would notice it; it has only swum into my consciousness in the last thirty seconds or so, and I’ve been staring at the backs of my hands now for about an hour-and-a-half. I’ve also had plenty of time to inspect the rest of my rather limited field of vision. This comprises a white sheet, a brass bed-head, an expanse of white-painted wall, halfway up which there is a small Victorian photograph of an unsmiling family group. Mother, father, and two daughters, glowering glum and stiff-necked into the future. The frame is jet black. I can also see, on either side of the bed, that there is grey cord carpet on the fl...

By James Kenway from Janus 28 Gazing down from behind the glass I could see the girl crossing the patio below, hips swinging above the tapping high heels, the blonde mop topping the lot. It would take her a couple of minutes to come up in the lift, sway along the corridor and let herself in. I sat behind my desk, chair angled so that I faced the door. I wanted her to see me as soon as she entered. I had a few very serious words to say to this young lady and I wanted the psychological advantage of catching her by surprise. I glanced around my cluttered and untidy office with distaste. The place was scattered with overflowing ashtrays and half-filled stale coffee cups. File drawers were half open and papers higgledy-piggledy everywhere. What on earth did the girl do all day? I heard the lift chunk to a stop and the tap of her heels in the corridor. Even without that giveaway sound I would have been sure it was her. Mine was the on...