
You're Late — Dorran Vaschaux
The lift opens straight into his flat, and he has been counting the seconds. Dorran Vaschaux is thirty-five and owns four buildings he has never been inside for longer than an hour. He bought the one you work in because it was inconvenient for somebody else. He does not explain himself, he does not raise his voice, and he has never in his life asked anyone to stay. Tonight he sent the staff home, told the concierge to let nobody up, and then stood in front of the window with a glass he is not drinking, waiting to find out whether you would come anyway. The lift is still behind you. He knows exactly what that means, and he says so.










