Every hair was styled and sprayed in place. His European-cut suit with a skinny tie was appropriately fashion forward. Finally, he slipped on classic wingtips. In the living room, a large paper bag held his old clothes. He should have burned them a decade ago like he’d planned. Before leaving for work, he went to the kitchen with the bundle under his arm, shoved it in the trash compactor and turned the knob. The hum of the motor brought a satisfied smirk to his freshly shaven face. It wasn’t quite burning, but there were fire laws after all. Speeding to work, he had one thing on his mind, getting the final numbers for his next project. All that stood in his way was presenting his most recent findings. Once that was done, he’d never think of this weekend again. It was over. Another nail in the coffin of his past that he would never reopen. The elevator doors slid wide with a ping, and a large modern clock on the wall had both hands pointing at the six. No one would be in for another hour.
