blue-lilting mint-vintage reddish glow
Albert, arriving home to his utilitarian apartment, sees a red light blinking in the room before he hits the overhead lightswitch. Albert depresses the button on his answering machine before hanging his trenchcoat. He expects a work message. It’s a co-worker’s voice saying, “Good evening, Agent Rosenfield. This is Agent Cooper.“
Albert freezes in his path toward the kitchen, looking askance at the machine. He’s met Cooper at the office and down in the lab a bare handful of times. Cute. Whacked in the membrane, but cute. Sharp in dress and observation. This guy Albert nods and lights up as Special Agent Dale Cooper’s boyish voice fills the room, calm as his blue-lilting streams of cigarette smoke. “It is ninety-nine degrees at twilight in Philadelphia. There is a reddish glow in the sky tonight, Agent Rosenfield. I have heard that this atmospherical phenomenon indicates the delight of sailors.” Albert squints at his answering machine. “The first star I see tonight-- whup noo, that’s Venus, nevermind...” Cooper pauses. Albert opens the window. There are no stars, no moon in the blackness above the streetlamps. Cooper’s serene voice follows Albert on a sudden mission to retrieve his morning paper from the recycle bin in the kitchen. Top of front page, listed by the date and weather forecast, are the minute-exact times of sunrise and sundown today. Albert flashes himself his watch. If twilight extends for no more than a half hour after sundown that would boil down the estimate on the time of Cooper’s call to almost three hours ago. Cooper is saying, “I hope you don’t mind me calling you at home, Agent Rosenfield. I still had your business card in the coat I was wearing,” a smile in his voice, “When we met.” he’s been thinking about me all day everytime he put his hand in his pocket Agent Cooper’s mint-vintage Armani trench Albert grunts under his breath. patent leather shoes were scuffed today Must be the overtime-jet-lag from his labwork causing Albert’s eyebrows to knit; antsy from the coffee or something. Can’t be Cooper’s voice, so lax it sounds like the man must have been lying on the floor for this call.
