“I’m Mr. Hillford’s new driver.” There was too long of pause that followed that caused Emile’s heart to start beating rapidly. “I was called yesterday…”

“Right, of course.” Maxine finally stopped typing. “Could I get your name?”

 “Uh, Georgie Harris.” 

“I’ll be right back, Mr. Harris.” She wrote down something on a notepad and made her exit towards the elevators. Emile stood frozen, heart hammering and hand sweat squeaking against his suitcase - he wiped them down his pant legs rapidly. 

His heart drowned out the building's noises so effectively he could barely hear a voice SAY, “You know you can sit down?”

“What?” Emile turned around, eyes still keeping mostly the ground. The kid was no longer lounging but perked up in his seat.

“You can sit down, dude.” Jared gave an odd half smile. Emile sat down slowly about two seats away from Jared. His eyes fixating on the marble floor, careful not to look at Jared. “Is your first name George or Georgie?” 

“Uh, yes.”

“Which one, idiot?” He crackled. 

“Oh, sorry, it’s Georgie.”

“That’s a weird first name.”

“Yeah.”

 There was a brief pause and then Jared got up from his seat and sat right next to Emile, his body facing in Emile’s direction. 

“Were your parents drug addicts?”

“Excuse me?”

“I heard only parents that do drugs have weirdly anxious children with weird names.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“School.”

Emile looked at the kid quizzingly. What was this kid’s DEAL? he thought.  

“Well, School has changed since I last went there.” Emile prayed that the conversation would end there. His thoughts scattered and danced like the reflections of a passersby on the marble floor. They reminded Emile of those Edgar Degas paintings he used to see at the museums with Aya and Christopher, with the ballerinas that looked as cold as ice. All the colors are muted and soulless. The deep uncanny beauty of their faces in the reflections like they were about to melt apart and reveal an ugly, decrepit appearance instead. Christopher said they freaked him out but kept up several postcards with the paintings on his wall. Aya tore them down a few days after he passed stating that “they cursed him.” Emile wanted to keep at least one to remember Christopher but the unnatural paleness of the ballerinas reminded him too much of Christopher in his coffin. 

  “You’re really quiet.” Jared was now fumbling through his pockets and kept sniffing incessantly.

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?” 

About how I wish you would shut the fuck up, Emile thought. 

“Things.”

“Oh really?” Jared laughed. “What kind of things?”

Emile was about to tell the kid to “fuck off” when Jared finally found the item he was scrumging for. A pink vape with the words Strawberry on it. Jared took a hit and let out a few puffs of smoke, making a show out of it. A chemical sweet scent surrounded them and Emile could feel tension building up in his temples. Emile sat dumbfounded and unsettled. Here was this child barely older than a kid in elementary and he was vaping. He probably didn’t even know what he was putting in his body. Emile looked at the kid. His almond shaped eyes already had crow’s feet settling in which made him seem incredibly tired. His back was slightly hunched over and he picked at his skin. The longer Emile looked at him, Jared seemed far more fragile and jittery than what he had witnessed before. 

“Oh, sorry.” Jared put the vape back into his jacket. “I probably should have asked.” 

“Are you even old enough to be vaping?” 

“I’m old enough.”

“You look like you’re twelve.”

“No, I'm like sev- sixteen.”

“Really? Sounds like you don’t know.”

“Okay, I’m closer to fourteen.”

“Where are your parents?”

“You’re not going to tell them, are you?” Jared tried to appear unbothered. He sat up a little taller and his face became stoic. However, his eyes kept twitching which signaled to Emile that the kid was prone to getting into trouble. “They don’t mind. Really.”

  Emile considered for a moment messing with the kid, threatening to tell Maxine whenever she got back. But then the thought occurred to him, he had no idea why this kid was here. He assumed it was for a parent but the kid had not clarified. He knew that if Aya was still here, she would take great care of Jared. The odd nature of the kid would not turn her away, and she would have helped him with such empathy and understanding. Emile looked around at the slow trickle of people leaving for the evening. Jared would never know that there used to be such a wonderful person that carried herself through that door and carried herself out with the same confident conviction. Emile thought about that night, and what way she left the building. He shook it away and instead imagined her sitting in his place right now. She would have sat next to this odd kid and listened attentively and would understand why he’s sitting in a waiting room of a prestigious firm with a strawberry vape instead of spending time with his friends- if he has any.  

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell them. I don’t even know them.”

Jared chuckled. “WELL, you kind of do.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're my dad’s new chauffeur.” 

A chill ran through Emile’s spine. The world around him seemed to tilt far on one side of its axis, and his stomach rose to his throat, his hair stretched away from him by the pull of gravity, it all shifted until he was hanging upside down. 

Suddenly, Emile and Jared could hear the elevator’s “ding,” the doors slid open, and a tall man with a crooked nose and almond shaped eyes came through. Emile’s neck hairs stood on their ends and the bile within his stomach fought to make its way back up through his throat. He wished to be home but didn’t want to be in that dark apartment, alone, with only him and his ghosts to drift in silence. As the man approached, his heart rate climbed, and a deep burning in his stomach churned with such a ferocity he feared he would spit up magma. All he could see was red as his cheeks heated up and his blood boiled, but he felt a cool discomfort on the surface of his skin, as if he was completely naked and miniscule in the eyes of Mr. Hillford. 

Jared’s father slowly strided towards them, and Emile could feel his heart rattling in his chest with each sound of a footstep cascading against the floor. Somehow Emile found the strength to stand. He stood with an apathetic expression on his face. He was still, incredibly still. When Mr. Hillford extended his hand for a greeting, Emile returned the favor and he took instructions one word at a time. Take the kid home. He could do that. He would have to do it. Emile gripped his suitcase handle awkwardly, and his gaze shifted from the bag and Mr. Hillford’s wretched face, and Jared’s unassuming gaze. 

It’s going to have to wait. Not with the kid around.

Emile did what he was told and brought the kid down the street to a yellow luxury car at the corner. They both got in the front seats, and without much of a thought, Emile threw his suitcase to the backseat. He’s not quite sure why he threw it, perhaps it was to let go of some frustration, but he quickly regretted the decision as a shot rang out and surprised Jared. 

Jared looked wildly around the car and then at Emile with scared eyes. 

“What was-”

Emile locked the doors. 

 “Georgie?…”

“It’s okay, kid. We’re just going for a ride.”