She used to say:
“The square tower is the most normal one. Four normal parallel walls, four corners, and not this God-knows-what… I don’t get this fancy architecture. Though it looks all right, I guess, pretty nice. On the out-side. Honestly, I wouldn’t survive a minute inside a triangle… “
He used to say:
“I love this asymmetric insanity so much, the sharp angles and weird little corners, I really love our trian-gular tower. Those people inside the square must be so bored! Or maybe they are just as boring and square themselves…”
She used to say:
“What kind of nonsense is it that you have to enjoy your work? It’s just work and by definition, it cannot bring you joy. I’m doing it for the living, period. I enjoy my books, my flowers and a plane
to Europe. And my work should bring joy to my bosses, since I’m doing it so well, they wouldn’t even let me take a vacation.”
He used to say:
“I can’t even imagine how they live, those people who go to work like…like…well, like they’re going to work. No joy, no enthusiasm, no wings. Of course, I am a creative man, as they say, and my muse sends butterflies to my stomach approximately three times a day, but even if you are an accountant or something – you can still see the stars through the figures, can’t you?..”
She usually left the office via the shopping mall in the round tower. She enjoyed browsing through the stores, gazing at the people sitting in coffee shops, buying some cute and totally unnecessary knick-knacks – and come back to life, shake off her work, all those numbers and reports, and go back to her music, her books and flowers.
He rarely entered the round tower. Mainly because he often stayed after hours, and everything was al-ready closed. Also, he didn’t like those noisy multilingual crowds. His head was bursting with colors and sounds and ideas as it was.
Unbelievable, but her heel broke right on the escalator, a stiletto got stuck in the grid. What a bummer, she was about to meet that “motek”* from Twitter, maybe this time he could hang on longer than half an hour and not skip while she’s irritated and disappointed. Instead, she’s practically splattered across the escala-tor, giggling nervously – it’s so stupid, she can’t free her foot, she doesn’t want to dump her shoe here, and the escalator ride is almost over…
He had to leave work early that day. His mom made a scene and gave him an ultimatum: either he comes for tea today, or he shouldn’t come at all. Of course, aunt Zosiya will also be there, with one of her new students. His mom dreams of an artistic power couple: one of aunt Zosiya’s pianists – and him, an artist and a designer (his mom pronounced it as deezaineer).
Boooring. And if that wasn’t enough, he had to go get some pastries from this stupid mall.
He pulled her out at the last moment; that silly girl nearly lost her leg, trying to save her shoe. The shoe was stuck in an escalator grid, and she was just standing there, laughing like crazy. Crazy and beautiful. Stunning, really.
She kept laughing while looking into his face and thinking, where have you been, you jerk, I’ve been looking for you my entire life!
He was looking into her face and thinking: if she turns around and leaves, I will die. Right here, on this bench by the escalator.
“You know what, I think we have a lot in common,” she said, “We must discuss immediately how come we never met till now and lost so much time. So damn much. “
“You know,” he said, “you just saved a good person from a certain death. “
So, they went to a coffee shop – this called for a celebration.
And then they went home and never parted again.
Even during the day, when she was sitting in her square tower, and he – in the triangular one, they were together and could hear each other breathing.
And after work they would meet near that very same escalator in the round tower.
His mom, by the way, came to her senses after only one week. She said – “So what if she is an account-ant, as long as the two of you are fine, Baruh Hashem!”
And they really were fine.
Translated by Diana Shnaiderman-Pereira
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*motek - tootsy