you all right, Harry?
Yeah, sure Pop, why?
Well, I dont know exactly, its just that you seem sort of out—well, out of sorts lately. I cant quite put my finger on it, but you just dont seem to be yourself.
Gee, trying to manage as sincere a look as possible, I dont know. Theres nothing wrong.
Harry bought a paper and tried to concentrate on it as he rode to work, but his mind kept drifting back to his fathers question and he kept asking himself if something was wrong. What could be wrong? Things werent going exactly right lately, things were getting a little goofed at work and Went-worth seemed to be getting on his back, but there was nothing wrong. At least not that he could pinpoint. He tried to get involved in the comic strips, but the vague uneasiness persisted and he kept dismissing questions from his mind. If anything was wrong, it wasnt his fault. That he was sure of.
Harry had been sitting at his desk a few minutes when Louise came over and asked him how he was feeling.
Pretty good. I think I/ll live.
Well thats good to hear. Have a stomach virus?
He suddenly felt trapped and had a second of panic until he remembered that he had told Louise that he had gotten sick after eating and had to go home.
(75)
Yeah, I sure did. Couldnt stray too far from home, smiling at her knowingly.
I thought you might be coming down with something.
Why? frowning.
O, you just didnt seem to be your usual self. You know, not as relaxed and sort of preoccupied. But Im glad youre all right now, patting him on the shoulder, then going back to her desk.
Harry puzzled over his coffee and cheese danish and wondered what in the hell was going on, why people were sticking their noses in his business. He wished to krist they/d keep them where they belonged. The only thing wrong with him was them.
He worked aggressively that morning and by the time he became aware of people coming and going and realized it was time for lunch, he felt relaxed. He looked at the work on his desk. He had done a good mornings work. Damn good. The Wilson job was all ready to go and neatly packaged.
He nodded at the work he had done and left for lunch feeling exhilarated. He started walking along Fifth Avenue, but by the time he reached the first corner the exhilaration was replaced with that vague uneasiness, and he turned and went to the coffee shop in the building to eat lunch. When he finished, he went back to the office and spent the remainder of the hour in the lounge.
For the next week, until the company outing on the following Friday, Harry had his lunch sent up from the coffee shop and spent the hour in the lounge reading, having absolutely no desire to go out for lunch, unable to force himself even if he thought of trying. He had gotten a few science fiction books from the neighborhood library and read them on the subway as well as at lunch time, and they seemed to absorb the energy from the surface of his mind and he could ignore any twinge he might feel.
Although he wanted to, he could not keep up his aggressive attitude toward work. He would manage it for an hour or two, but that was all, and then usually because he had fallen
(76)
behind schedule again and had to work frantically to finish the job.
From time to time Harry White would start to question himself about his inability to work consistently as he once had, and his inability to leave the office for lunch, but as soon as he could feel these questions vaguely forming, a fear gripped him and he shoved them aside and inundated his mind with something, anything, else to avoid facing those questions.
The day before the company outing Mr. Wentworth called Harry into his office. Harry knew it was serious when Mr. Wentworth told him to sit down, and something inside him turned over and a slight twinge of nausea tugged at the back of his throat. I wanted you to hear this from me, Harry, rather than at the banquet tomorrow night. As you know
Yeah, sure Pop, why?
Well, I dont know exactly, its just that you seem sort of out—well, out of sorts lately. I cant quite put my finger on it, but you just dont seem to be yourself.
Gee, trying to manage as sincere a look as possible, I dont know. Theres nothing wrong.
Harry bought a paper and tried to concentrate on it as he rode to work, but his mind kept drifting back to his fathers question and he kept asking himself if something was wrong. What could be wrong? Things werent going exactly right lately, things were getting a little goofed at work and Went-worth seemed to be getting on his back, but there was nothing wrong. At least not that he could pinpoint. He tried to get involved in the comic strips, but the vague uneasiness persisted and he kept dismissing questions from his mind. If anything was wrong, it wasnt his fault. That he was sure of.
Harry had been sitting at his desk a few minutes when Louise came over and asked him how he was feeling.
Pretty good. I think I/ll live.
Well thats good to hear. Have a stomach virus?
He suddenly felt trapped and had a second of panic until he remembered that he had told Louise that he had gotten sick after eating and had to go home.
(75)
Yeah, I sure did. Couldnt stray too far from home, smiling at her knowingly.
I thought you might be coming down with something.
Why? frowning.
O, you just didnt seem to be your usual self. You know, not as relaxed and sort of preoccupied. But Im glad youre all right now, patting him on the shoulder, then going back to her desk.
Harry puzzled over his coffee and cheese danish and wondered what in the hell was going on, why people were sticking their noses in his business. He wished to krist they/d keep them where they belonged. The only thing wrong with him was them.
He worked aggressively that morning and by the time he became aware of people coming and going and realized it was time for lunch, he felt relaxed. He looked at the work on his desk. He had done a good mornings work. Damn good. The Wilson job was all ready to go and neatly packaged.
He nodded at the work he had done and left for lunch feeling exhilarated. He started walking along Fifth Avenue, but by the time he reached the first corner the exhilaration was replaced with that vague uneasiness, and he turned and went to the coffee shop in the building to eat lunch. When he finished, he went back to the office and spent the remainder of the hour in the lounge.
For the next week, until the company outing on the following Friday, Harry had his lunch sent up from the coffee shop and spent the hour in the lounge reading, having absolutely no desire to go out for lunch, unable to force himself even if he thought of trying. He had gotten a few science fiction books from the neighborhood library and read them on the subway as well as at lunch time, and they seemed to absorb the energy from the surface of his mind and he could ignore any twinge he might feel.
Although he wanted to, he could not keep up his aggressive attitude toward work. He would manage it for an hour or two, but that was all, and then usually because he had fallen
(76)
behind schedule again and had to work frantically to finish the job.
From time to time Harry White would start to question himself about his inability to work consistently as he once had, and his inability to leave the office for lunch, but as soon as he could feel these questions vaguely forming, a fear gripped him and he shoved them aside and inundated his mind with something, anything, else to avoid facing those questions.
The day before the company outing Mr. Wentworth called Harry into his office. Harry knew it was serious when Mr. Wentworth told him to sit down, and something inside him turned over and a slight twinge of nausea tugged at the back of his throat. I wanted you to hear this from me, Harry, rather than at the banquet tomorrow night. As you know
Similar Books
