The song continued to play.

I considered the flashing screen on the bright blue Sanyo Katana. I’d assigned the phone to this particular client not out of any attempt at broadly ironic racist humor but because the shade of blue on the casing matched so well the color I’d seen highlighting the lower scales of a dragon tattoo encircling the length of her left arm. Still, sometimes the shoe fits.

I answered the phone.

“You let me ring for a very long time.”

I nudged the Dadox with my knee, just a few inches to the right, looking down to gauge the impact the change had on my revealed bald spot.

“Yes, I did.”

“You had something pressing.”

“That sounds like a statement.”

“Excuse me?”

“It sounds to me as if you just made a statement of fact, declaring that I had something more pressing to do than answer the phone, as opposed to asking if I did.”

The light still glared unacceptably off the shiny skin topping my dome.

Moved one inch farther from this spot, the relocation of the table would demand not only rearrangement of the room, but the jettisoning of several pieces and the acquisition of several new ones. In my mind I could see the shock waves this would create, radiating through every room in the house.

“And did you?”

I considered her question, looked at my reflection, thought briefly about my own vanity, and shook my head.

“No, I had nothing more pressing. I was simply procrastinating.”

“Don’t, in future, when I call, keep me waiting, please.”

The “please” was an afterthought on her part, dedicated to the skill and efficiency with which I did my work. A bone of courtesy thrown my way, perhaps, but I knew it took some effort on her part. And I appreciated that.

“I will, in future, endeavor to be promptly responsive, thank you.”

“Come and see me.”

I looked out the glass at the smoking world.