Reginald’s Interview with Cuthbert

When Reginald first entered Cuthbert’s office, at eight-thirty a.m. sharp, he blinked. At first almost inconspicuously, and then far more violently. It seemed, to him, that either his own eyes had melted somewhat, or that the office was made of a kind of wax that could not sustain its own weight when exposed to oxygen.

Not that there seems to be much in here, he thought, taking a gulp of breath. His eyes traveled to the ceiling fan, which did not move, but hung in a wilting fashion. Then, he noticed a potted plant, something like a fern, which hung its leaves over a dark pot with the arc of barrels thrown overboard by desperate sailors on a sinking ship. The furniture seemed to sag as well, as if underwater, and affected by rot.

The man behind the desk – Mr. Rathbo ...