At four o'clock, Amos Blum always began his 'closing down ritual'. He assumed it struck his co-workers as odd that he was still working at five.
Amos did not appreciate that no one noticed him, nor was aware of any of his rituals.
At six, the cleaner arrived, making her way from the offices at the top. When she was two rows away, Amos left his desk. For no particular reason he decided to walk down the six flights.
As he yanked open the stairwell door, the pressure within seemed so great; he had a momentary thought of retreat, but if the cleaner saw him hesitate, she might think less of him.
Unknown to Amos Blum, the cleaner could not have picked him out of a line up.
Amos hurried down the stairs, confused by his odd behaviour. But today was a day of confusion.
Yesterday, Monday, he had arrived home spot on five thirty to find himself alone. This had never happened before.
His wife, Lucy, should be placing the meal on the table, his daughter, Barbara, being called from her room. This was how it had always been. But it was not like that yesterday.
Just a note;
"I have taken Barbara to the Caribbean for three weeks. Look after yourself."
He had thought it a joke.
Where would his wife get the money to take herself and their daughter to the Caribbean? Why had they left so secretively? Nothing had warned Amos that on Monday morning, when he left for work, he would return to an empty house.
Yesterday evening, Monday, he had sat in 'his' chair in front of the television, holding the note, looking into space. At some point, he passed into sleep to awake at dawn, fully dressed, down to his shoes.