Saturday

Trace cleaned his desk. First he took a roll of paper towels and a bottle of Fantastik Orange Action all-purpose cleaner and scrubbed down the shell of the Canon printer and metal canister holding the computer hard drive. He was always embarrassed by the nicotine stains that built up on the plastics and metals so he scrubbed extra hard to remove all evidence of his filthy habit.

He used a can of compressed air to blow the dust and dry skin out from the computer keyboard and then used a can of generic dusting polish from the 99 Cent Store to polish the faux wood grain finish on his desk. He stacked the CDs neatly in their plastic crate atop the stereo system – the most recent acquisition being a collection of old radio shows featuring “Raymond Chandler’s most famous fictional detective, Philip Marlowe.” Trace loved the CBS radio shows from the 1940s starring Gerald Mohr as Marlowe and he marveled at the entrancing and intricate writing that went into each thirty-minute episode.

Trace dusted the small shelf just below the printer stand where his reference books were neatly arranged: a Roget’s Thesaurus, a two-volume Funk and Wagnall’s Standard Desk Dictionary, five books of popular quotations for every occasion, the Merriam Webster Encyclopedia of Literature, a thick textbook titled The Fundamentals of Criminal Investigation, and The Encyclopedia of Unusual Sex Practices.

He moved the stack of books he was currently reading to dust under them: Bruce Wagner’s “The Chrysanthemum Palace”, a collection of John Updike short stories, a collection of Raymond Carver stories, and “Skin Deep” by Diana Wagman. There were two stray DVDs that needed to be returned to their shelf across the room: “Capote” and “The Horse Whisperer.”

It was 5:00 PM and there was a cool breeze rustling through the thick green hotel curtains. Trace felt satisfied with the Saturday that had just passed. All was good and tranquil. He must have been doing something right for a change.

He leaned back in the chair and lit a cigarette.