An Average Day

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Jordan twisted about under the covers, trying to get comfortable. It had been a long day, and looked to be just as long tomorrow; a pity, then, that he couldn't seem to get any sleep, since he could really use some.

His mind was refusing to settle down, but instead skipped merrily along, going over everything he'd done today and everything still left to do. Of course, he hadn't gotten to mowing the lawn yet, but that could be done easily enough tomorrow... oh, and he needed to return the tools he'd borrowed from his brother. No, wait, Mike had said he didn't need them back yet. All right, then, never mind.

He turned over again, just about as tired as he could ever remember being, and yet still his mind raced on. There was the laundry... no, no, he'd caught up on that, there wouldn't be but one load to do tomorrow. And there were the bills to pay... tomorrow. They could wait one more day, surely. He wouldn't be able to mail them out till tomorrow anyway.

He could do the mending on his overalls before going off to work, and mow the lawn after he came home; of course, right after work he needed to visit Mama and take her out to dinner, so he wouldn't actually get home till fairly late. And then after that there was the creaky bathroom door that he should take a look at, and maybe at some point he could even get a chance to catch a couple minutes of that new TV show that Mike kept saying he should watch.

And there were the bills to pay, of course.

A few more minutes went by, and Jordan lay awake with his body screaming for rest and his brain kicked up into overdrive. Finally, sighing loudly, he kicked off the blankets and got back up.

Might as well get something else done, since sleep obviously wasn't on the list.

Success

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The foreman coughed politely. "Need some help there, Murray?"

Murray felt his face go red, but he remained as he was, facing the door, head down so he could get a better look at his keys. "Nosir, Mr. Talbot. I know I've got the right key here; I'll find it any second now -- aha!" From the massive keyring he triumphantly held one key aloft, a huge silver-colored affair, worn and greasy with the use of years. "Sorry about that, sir, there's just so many keys to sort through that it... hrm."

Talbot frowned. "Problem?"

"Wrong key." Shamefacedly, he held the keyring even closer to his face, nervously aware of the seconds ticking by even as the key he sought continued to elude him. "There's just so many of them I need to have on me, you see, and so many of them look alike, and -- "

"Murray, your boss and I have been somewhat... concerned, lately," Talbot interrupted smoothly. "You've worked here for, what, fifteen, twenty years?"

Murray felt his throat tighten, but he answered as calmly as he could. "Twenty-three."

"Twenty-three. That's a long time to have kept up your janitorial duties, and you've generally performed admirably." Talbot paused slightly, then continued. "However, we have noticed lately that you appear to be having... difficulties."

Murray turned to the foreman in alarm. "Sir, if this is about that door I left unlocked last week -- "

Talbot shook his head. "No, no, it isn't just one thing; it's more a series of incidents, minor ones, certainly, but... they do add up." He coughed, then pointed to Murray's belt. "Is the key you need on your other keyring, perhaps?"

"Oh." Murray went red again. "I think it is, actually."

Talbot's hand came down on his shoulder, heavy, insistent. "As I said, your boss and I have been talking about your performance lately, and... I'm afraid we're going to have to let you go."

"Oh," Murray said again.

"Perhaps there's something else on your mind lately, and that's what's got you distracted," Talbot went on, not letting go of Murray's shoulder. "We would certainly be willing to consider rehiring you in a year or so, if that is the case. And we've no hard feelings, you understand."

"Yes," Murray agreed.

"We just have to look out for the success of the company, you see?" Talbot gave him a brief, meaningless smile. "That's all."