Myles Wren
Quick Glances Over Fences
Marco leaned across his desk to get a look at who had opened the front door. When he saw it was his colleague, Brooke, he plopped back in his chair in disgust. “Only me,” he thought. Marco was hours away from vacation. Seven days, six nights to be spent in a tropical resort with his wife, who was calling at that very second for the fifth time that morning. “Well?’ she asked. “Still waiting,” he said as he refreshed the page on the website of the overnight delivery service for the 42nd time that day to reveal “out for delivery” for the 42nd time. “There are only two flights after…,” she began. “I know. I’ve looked at them,” he said of the flights available in case they couldn’t make the one they had booked.
Concern sharpened her delivery as she blurted, “The first gets us in tomorrow. There’s an eight hour layover.” “There’s a good chance we still make it. If not, you go on our flight, and I’ll switch my ticket.” “No, that’s not a vacation together. We’ll both switch,” she said, recognizing that frustration could lead to conflict and a lousy vacation. “I still think we’ll be ok,” Marco said as he hit refresh for the 43rd time with the 43rd same result. When they wrapped up their call, Marco decided to take a walk in the park across the street to relieve the stress, but not before he refreshed for the 44th time. “Call me as soon as it arrives,” he said to the receptionist as he opened the front door. It was his fault, he knew. This