John Kester

Wallace haphazardly drove into work today, about an hour later than usual. Bitter and cold. Insomnia is getting the better of him. Two, maybe three hours of sleep every night. His mind, a racing playground, his body a lump of slump. Beyond that, he mutters through the cold and slips into work. He tries to slide in his office, only to realize the door is locked. A lock to which he doesn’t possess the key. So obviously, a fantastic morning so far.

When Wallace did sleep, he dreamt of a certain engineer, initialed LR. One that has a lot of offer women. Nonetheless he was at a Best Buy. He brought in a giant glass board. Wallace was there with a high school friend he hadn’t thought about in years. So Mr. R. takes this board to a salesman and asks for ideas to repurpose this glass panel. Wallace immediately things this will end badly and quickly. Instead, the salesman walks over to the TVs and turns over a chalkboard and rounds all the customers up for an impromptu brainstorming session. The salesman acts as if he’s been waiting for this moment forever. Any bits past that point are unimportant.