The Autumn Leaf

Hal walked quickly. His gait approached the speed of a run and he cut it down to a walk. Running in public was the sort of embarrassment that could haunt Hal days later. That's not to say his current pace didn't warrant a chuckle. Briefcase swinging, coat flying wildly behind him, Hal was running quite late for work. He was never late for work, or anything for that matter. There had been a power outage the night before, thus erasing the nagging beep of his 5:41 alarm and extending his solitary sleep. 5:41. Allowing two minutes to get undressed and turn on the shower and such, seven minutes for a shower because five is too few and ten too many. 6:00. Fifteen minutes to get dressed (6:15), twenty to make breakfast(6:35), fifteen to eat it(6:50) and ten to gather his things and be out the door promptly at seven (7:00). Hal was quite fond of his morning and usually experienced a pang of sorrow to leave them until the following day. This particular morning, Hal looked past the current morning and onto the next. It was twenty-four minutes more hectic than he could stand. This being the case, he had decided to allow himself to drive five miles over the speed limit. He made it into the city at 7:55 and thus began his high-paced walk to work, three blocks away. He arrived on his floor at 8:00 and 43 seconds. Desk. 8:01. Hal was not late to anyone but himself. Today was a bad day. He removed his coat, draped it over his chair, sat down softly, took a deep breathe, and gently set his briefcase beside him. He gazed into the blank computer screen, fixed his thinning red hair, and straightened his tie. He was disappointed that he happened to be wearing his favorite tie on the day he was late. It was plum. A pencil was out of place and his stapler was crooked.

Hal did his usual work for the usual amount of time. He had prepared his apology for whoever happened to inquire about his untimely arrival. Every person who strolled by was coming to throw Hal in a small, dim room with one desk, one chair, and one ridiculously bright light. Hal hated bright lights. But no one came to interrogate him. In fact, no one came to talk to him. But that was not unusual. The extent of Hal's daily conversation was a brief, "Pardon me," or a small "Thank you." He left his desk only to accomplish a task and was therefore very efficient and very alone. Hal was content with his job and was very good at it. He was quietly, and timidly evolving this job into a steady career. It was something to look forward to.

The day coming to a close, Hal watched the clock intently. 5:30 rolled around and Hal remained seated. Coat on and briefcase in hand, Hal waited for exactly sixty seconds, making up for the morning's lost minute. He once again fixed his hair and straightened his tie and left the office at 5:31 and 43 seconds. He walked much slower, and very deliberately. He stepped in the elevator and elegantly pressed the button labeled "ROOF". Hal studied the buttons, as he ascended slowly and steadily. They were arranged beautifully and were the perfect size. Ding; he reached the top, stepped out, turned around and watched as the doors closed exactly where they should. Hal turned back around and stood very still for some time. The sun was setting and a brisk breeze blew. Hal's red hair quivered gently. An autumn leaf on the verge of departure.

Hal arrived precisely on time. Screams, sirens. It was time to wake up.