Holden
“Holden,” Eddie says as the door behind him slams shut. “Damn, I hate that door,” he says, approaching my desk.
I am in a portable office trailer while the packhouse is being rebuilt. It smells of old carpeting and mildew, and the air conditioner barely works on most days, so it’s not the most pleasant place to work.
It’s been three months since several bombs blew up the packhouse that had stood for nearly two hundred years. After careful consideration by engineers, it was decided to bulldoze the old one and start over again. The progress is going well, but it will still take several months before we can move back in.
I am sitting at a cheap desk trying to get some work done. My back is sweating as it’s a relatively humid day, and the building is not the best ventilated.
“What
