It has been a while since Paul drank the hot wax but he still has a sore on the inside of his cheek. Just on the left side, towards the back. He works it with his tongue, opening the flap of skin and closing it. His cheek bulges in and out. Like he’s chewing gum.
Paul keeps looking out the window of his office. He is thinking about Vivian’s kiss that morning. He looks down, to the small people on the streets below. He watches. Her lips were hot on him. Her hands hot, too, on his shoulders. Paul is grateful that his office does not face Lake Ontario. It does not face the island airport. If it did, he would have to move. Or quit. He would have to get away from the building and its closeness to air traffic. As it is, his office faces uptown and so the only planes he sees are way up there. So
