Written by Wren Marco
Illustration by Krystyna Felice

“You’ll paint yourself white and fill up with noise. But there will be something missing.”
- Radiohead (Nude)

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From within that certain, hazy limbo between consciousness and slumber, Noss Barlowe once more covered his ears to fight off a sound that had been berating his mind every morning for the past year. The sound and chaos of a twelve bell surprise maximus continued to bang and clatter against the inside of his skull. This morning, however, Noss could hear something else through the bells. Her voice was cold and cruel, yet without origin. Like ice in his ears.

Noss shouted in his sleep, “Just leave me alone! Leave me be. Leave me…” 

His own shouting woke him up. Opening his eyes, he found his comforter, sheets, and limbs strewn in a chaotic disarray. His alarm clock rang out its little bell sound as the digital numbers on the front display blinked on and off:

6:07 AM

“Dammit.”

Despite running late for work, he stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before submitting once more to the hamster wheel that most would simply call “a Tuesday in Somewhere, California”. But the voice’s declaration stuck with him. For the first time in his life, he hoped that nothing would disturb his hamster wheel today.

…

After a shower, he dried his face and hair with a towel before wiping away the moisture that had accumulated on his bathroom mirror. It was the kind with separate panels that each swung out in different directions. Looking at the centermost panel, Noss could see what his combination of sleep deprivation and anxiety had done to his appearance: dark rings under his eyes and a visibly defeated posture. His forehead now revealed the undesirable beginnings of wrinkles, long before he ever expected them to appear.

That’s me, huh? But… what about that one?

He turned to look at himself in the rightmost panel.

And what about that one?

He did the same with the leftmost panel, certain that he saw this instance of him blink when he hadn’t.

Hmm… not now.

He didn’t have the time to look into mirrors this morning. He dressed himself, brushed his teeth, and rushed out the door, skipping breakfast. He had an important meeting to attend.

Not now…

…

“Where’s Noss? We need that report before the customer arrives. Did he give you any kind of progress update yesterday?” Mr. David Gilmour, the CEO of Integrity Innovations Inc. pinched his nose, his eyes closed.

Before Noss’ supervisor, Mr. Nick Mason, could answer him, Gilmour’s secretary entered the meeting room, “Sir, the Kimblewell customers are here a bit earlier than expected, and they don’t seem very patient.”

Gilmour grumbled before deciding how to make his next move in the game called corporate America, “Have one of our service technicians give them a tour of the facility. That’ll buy us some time while we wait for Noss.”

“Yes, sir.” She closed the door behind her in an unnecessarily delicate sort of way.

“As you were saying…” Gilmour turned back to his right hand man.

Mason continued, “Right. Noss told me on Friday that he was nearing completion with the quarter two numbers. Once we have those, we’ll know how to approach the guys from Kimblewell. But to be honest with you sir, I’ve heard some rumors recently.” Out of nervous habit, Mason broke eye contact, “I’ve heard that… that they’re thinking of buying us out.”

Gilmour sighed, “Keep this between you and me, but… yes that is a possibility. I’m hoping we can leverage towards a merger at the very worst though. I assure you that I have no intentions of selling out, but… this is still crucial for the company.” He clenched his fists. “And that’s why we need those reports here ASAP!”

As if on cue, the door to the meeting room opened again. “Sorry I’m late.” Noss surveyed the meeting room as he walked toward his seat, “Oh, good morning Mr. Gilmour.” His heart skipped a beat.

Gilmour put on a smile, “Noss, my friend. You have the quarter two numbers I hope?”

“Yes, sir.” With a rather plain, pragmatic look on his face, Noss opened his briefcase and set out several sheets across the conference room table.

Mason chimed in, hoping to diffuse the developing tension, “Excellent work, Noss. Can you give us a complete run do-”

“No time. The customer’s already here.” Gilmour cut him off, “Young man, I need you to summarize what you’ve found. We have a big company decision to make in just a few minutes, and we don’t have much time left to prepare.”

At this, Noss paused, if only for half a second at most, staring blankly into space. Too quick for anyone in the room to think anything of it.

Go ahead.

With a nod, Noss understood what was being asked of him.

“Yes sir. First off, I’ve noticed that we’ve actually seen a significant increase in revenue this quarter. You made some switches to some different suppliers at the beginning of this year and that has paid off immensely in the past few months. Additionally, I also did some digging into Kimblewell’s own developments this past quarter. They seem to be struggling with the decreasing demand for their latest product line, and as a result, biting off more than they can chew after they doubled down on marketing.”

Noss paused for a moment, locking eyes with his boss’ boss.

“Mr. Gilmour, I may be out of line in saying this, but with what I know here… I feel certain that you’re the one with the upper hand in today’s negotiations, not them.”

Noss’ two superiors stood in shock, Mason in particular. He was aware of Noss’ progress with the reports and what he had found out with the supplier switch. But Noss hadn’t told him about his discoveries regarding Kimblewell at all.

When did he think to do that? In fact… I never told him that Kimblewell was coming in anytime soon.

Gilmour broke the silence, “Noss, be honest with me here. You're not telling me this just because it’s what I want to hear, is it? If I find out that you’re lying to me…”

“Not at all. I have the sheets right here, don’t I? I know you don’t have the time to peruse them right now, but the evidence for this is all here, including Kimblewell’s own reports from their previous three quarters. Sure, I’m making some inferences here about “upper hands”, but that’s the best we… I mean, you can do with this sort of thing.”

Gilmour smiled upon hearing the good report. So did Mason, putting his concerns aside for the sake of the moment. 

Noss, however, did not. He couldn’t. Despite the silence that now lingered in the meeting room, the clanging bells in his head had once more grown to an obnoxious clamor.

Gilmour took a quick glance down at the papers before looking up again, “I like you kid. The three of us will get lunch later this week, but only if this negotiation goes off without a hitch. I hope to see you on the other side…”

“Yes sir. I look forward to it.” Noss shook his hand.

“Excellent! Now shoo lad, shoo! I have to deal with these customers.” Gilmour waved towards the door, dismissing him.

“Shoo?” You’re gonna let him talk to you like that?

Quiet!

“Yes sir.” Noss darted out of the meeting room, now in an unexpected hurry that no one else in the meeting room picked up on.

On his way back to his desk, on the other side of the office, Noss reached for the right side of his forehead, trying to alleviate a sudden, stabbing pain that had just begun there. He had never felt anything like it before, but there was something distinctly needle-like about it. It made him wonder if this was what getting tattooed felt like.

By the time he got back to his desk, the pain had somehow subsided just as quickly as it had arrived. Hoping it wouldn’t come back again, Noss took a deep breath, and began to work on his next task for the day.

…

By noon, with the tensions relieved for the time being, Noss had left for an hour-long lunch break, but not before catching an odd glance and a chuckle from the secretary on his way out the door. 

He didn’t have the time to make sense of that though. He had a meeting planned with his parents to discuss some house sitting details before they left for a two week long vacation. A midweek lunch, just hours before they’d leave, was the only time they could all meet together.

Outside the restaurant, “Neely’s Pub”, Noss happened to glance into the front window to see his reflection, shocked by what he could now see: an “L” written in black ink on his forehead.

What the hell…?

Confused, he tried to wipe it away. When that didn’t work, he tried harder, to the point where the skin around and beneath the “L” had started to redden. Even so, the writing remained.

Is that why she laughed at me?

…

“Noss, how are y-” Noss’ mother cut herself off upon seeing her son sitting in the booth. “Why are you wearing a winter hat? It’s 90 degrees outside.”

“Umm… I have a headache. It’s more so for the compression than the warmth. It seems to be helping actually.” It was the best excuse Noss could come up with. Of course, the heat in addition to the nervousness that came from having an “L” suddenly written on his forehead made Noss sweat more than usual. He did his best to keep his composure, “Besides, it’s a fashion statement these days. You wouldn’t get it, it’s a younger generation thing.”

“Oh you’re a riot, you know that?” His mother chuckled as she sat down. 

Upon taking a seat as well, Noss’ father took out a printed spreadsheet from his briefcase, as if he too was preparing for a negotiation with a high profile customer.

“Now Noss, I prepared this spreadsheet describing all of the things that we’ll need done and when they need to be done.” He pointed to the sheet’s various cells, all color coded for the sake of optimal readability. Noss found some humor at the thought that his father had worked harder on this chore list than Noss himself had on the quarter two reports.

“As you can see, Jinkies' and Sullivan’s feeding times are included here in red, the cleaning chores are in yellow, and the yard work is labelled in green, which between you and me made the most sense, since grass is green as we all know.” Noss’ mother rolled her eyes as his father amused himself with his color coding choices.

Noss’ father continued, explaining more house sitting details, but there was nothing that seemed especially out of the ordinary to him. Noss had grown up with them after all, he knew how they lived and what they needed.

…

“And… I think that’s it.” Noss’ father said as he finished making yet another note in the margins.

“Do you have any questions for us?” his mother asked.

For a moment, Noss got the feeling that there was a tinge of unspoken concern from the two of them. And if they did feel that way, they wouldn’t be wrong. Even so, they now seemed conveniently oblivious to the fact that Noss’ sister, Norah, still lived at home with them.

Why are you doing these chores? Why not her?

He knew there wasn’t a point in asking this though. He knew what their answer would be. Something along the lines of, “Oh you know how she is.” or “She’s always busy with her own antics these days, she’s hardly ever home.” or even “She’s not as reliable as you are.”

Calm down, I can handle this.

After a moment, he spoke up, “Yes, just one. Where did you say you guys were going again?”

“A cruise, Nossy, we’re going on a Caribbean cruise! I’m so excited, let me tell you all about it!” His mother segued into talking about their trip in great detail. He couldn’t pay much attention to this though. The clamor of the bells came and went with the stinging pulse of his headache.

…

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