This morning, I was up pretty early. I checked into the BB&M studio office to see if Bagman or Butler had anything interesting to say but the office was empty. I poured a cup of coffee from the large espresso-maker that sits on marble-topped credenza next to the bronze bust of Kurt Vonnegut. But the room was chilly because nobody had remembered to bring in wood for the fireplace which smelled of damp ashes. So I trundled back upstairs for awhle.
A little later, Butler walked into the empty office and surveyed it. He carefully wiped up a few drops of coffee that had been spilled on the marble and muttered something about how Mark can never pour coffee without spilling at least a drop or two. Then he went out to get some logs from the woodshed.
While he was gone, Bagman, who had spent the night binging on Red Bull came crashing into the empty office like one of Kramer's entrances in the old Seinfield show. "Dang!" he swore to himself, disappointed that nobody was there to appreciate his antics. He went over to Butler's desk and scrambled the pencils which Butler always leaves in nice parallel rows. The he put a thumbtack on Butler's chair and went back to his room.
In the East the sky was just beginning to turn toward pale blue.