the appraisal. he tells me it’s like walking the plank. will there be be butter on his bread this christmas? — will there even be bread? i tell him he is exaggerating. he smiles worriedly. the phone rings; he jumps — michael jordan would have been proud. i tell him it is his turn to go in. i swear he paled into air when i said that. i tell him to relax; he tenses up. his ghost enters The Room and approaches Her. good morning he says to Her, voice s-shaking. Good Morning She replies. the door closes behind him with a thud: ‘order in the court’ rings through my ears. and the trial has begun…
the appraisal
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