“Yes. I know. Tomorrow at noon, I’m aware.” He held his phone to his ear. Brushing his messy, unbrushed hair from his eyes as if there was anything to see. His voice was the only echoing through the street of the dark New York. His flannel hovered his briefcase, being held with his other hand. His shoes tapped the ground as he walked. The voice ran through the phone kept reminding him of the meeting tomorrow. He thought to himself as he sighed quietly, ‘Geez, not a day off. Looks like I’ll be working saturday… again.’. He felt his name tag fall from his shirt, but when he turned, it wasn’t lying on the sidewalk like it should’ve been. He put down the briefcase as the call wrapped up, with one finial, “Yes, sir.”. He lowered his phone into his pocket and took a few steps from where he came. He knelt under a flickering streetlight, his eyes scanned the ground for the name tag with “Margin Flenein” written in bold lettering. “What the-?” He leaned forward to get a better look, but his balance gave out. He expected to hit the sidewalk but instead he… phased through it.

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