Encounters
''fugue'' ▫ᴱᴺ｜encounter｜ENC｜20260813235823-15-•
This was my first chance to say things were a country mile from all right, but Mr. Harold Oblowski of 225 Park Avenue wasn’t the sort of man you said such things to. He was a fine agent, both liked and loathed in publishing circles (sometimes by the same people at the same time), but he didn’t adapt well to bad news from the dark and oil-streaked levels where the goods were actually produced. He would have freaked and been on the next plane to Derry, ready to give me creative mouth-to-mouth, adamant in his resolve not to leave until he had yanked me out of my fugue. No, I liked Harold right where he was, in his thirty-eighth-floor office with its kickass view of the East Side.
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@Bag of Bones ▫𓂃
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