None of it makes any sense. Does everybody know about the TV People? Am I alone in the dark? Maybe the wife knew about the TV People all along, too. Probably. I’ll bet that’s why she wasn’t surprised by the television and why she didn’t mention it. That’s the only possible explanation. Yet this confuses me even more. Who or what, then, are the TV People? And why are they always carrying around TV sets?

One colleague leaves his seat to go to the toilet, and I get up to follow. This is a guy who entered the company around the same time I did. We’re on good terms. Sometimes we go out for a drink together after work. I don’t do that with most people. I’m standing next to him at the urinals. He’s the first to complain. “Oh, joy! Looks like we’re in for more of the same, straight through to evening. I swear! Meetings, meetings, meetings, going to drag on forever.”

“You can say that again,” I say. We wash our hands. He compliments me on the morning meeting’s statement. I thank him.

“Oh, by the way, those guys who came in with the TV just now …” I launch forth, then cut off.

He doesn’t say anything. He turns off the faucet, pulls two paper towels from the dispenser, and wipes his hands. He doesn’t even shoot a glance in my direction. How long can he keep drying his hands? Eventually, he crumples up his towels and throws them away. Maybe he didn’t hear me. Or maybe he’s pretending not to hear. I can’t tell. But from the sudden strain in the atmosphere, I know enough not to ask. I shut up, wipe my hands, and walk down the corridor to the conference room. The rest of the afternoon’s meetings, he avoids my eyes.

WHEN I GET HOME from work, the apartment is dark. Outside, dark clouds have swept in. It’s beginning to rain. The apartment smells like rain. Night is coming on. No sign of the wife. I loosen my tie, smooth out the wrinkles, and hang it up. I brush off my suit. I toss my shirt into the washing machine. My hair smells like cigarette smoke, so I take a shower and shave. Story of my life: I go to endless meetings, get smoked to death, then the wife gets on my case about it. The very first thing she did after we were married was make me stop smoking. Four years ago, that was.