The floor of the small, drably painted room was covered in sticky notes. Frantic “To Do” lists were scribbled on them, with frequent duplications and repetitions.
A brilliant man had once lived here.
He’d been obsessive-compulsive. That explained the sticky notes.
The battery-powered light bulb he’d swallowed explained the brilliance.
“I think I dropped it over here somewhere. It might’ve rolled under something.”
“You should be more careful.”
“I’m sorry! I don’t know how it happened!”
“You’re so absentminded… What did you lose this time, anyways?”
“What? Are you out of your mind!?”
“No, it’s out of me!”
Wind rushed past his face.
There was an itchy spot on the back of his neck. He scratched at it absentmindedly.
Meanwhile, there was an itchy spot on his elbow. He scratched at it absentmindedly.
Meanwhile, there was an itchy spot on his back, underneath his parachute.
Oh yeah. Parachute.