I get on the elevator with my cart. The cart is empty now but for the last month or two it’s been sitting in the middle of my workspace full of holiday detritus - bits of garland, holiday shelf talkers, wrapping paper rolls. All through the holidays, the cart and the empty holiday decoration boxes, all the clutter have been making my brain feel itchy, but now that the decorations are down and packed away and I’m getting it all out of my workspace, I feel a little sad. At the place where the top shelf of the cart meets the wooden back, the crease is scattered with tiny bits of tinsel and a single green foil star.
There’s one other person on the elevator, a young guy wearing a bright green t-shirt and looking at his cell phone. He looks up and smiles like you do when you forget you’re supposed to avoid people’s eyes on elevators.
“Having a good workday?” he says.
“Yes,” I say, and pick up the green foil star. “I found a star.”
“Nice,” he says.
“It matches your shirt,” I say. “You should have it.” I reach the star out.
“Hey, thanks,” he says, and takes it. The doors open, and he leaves the elevator, looking at the star on his finger.
Is consciousness perhaps
11 hours ago