#rdmc01

The cardboard box cradled ever-so-carefully in his arms was the most precious thing in the world to Roger, at that moment in time. It, like the many others like it that populated their over-crowded workspace, had been carefully, reverently, curated under his discerning eye, like a shattered vase gently glued back together, piece by piece. Eye-witness accounts and testimonies, newspaper clippings and duplicates of bookpages, all meticulously filed and stacked and labelled to form a greater picture that was currently serving as a nest for an empty, chipped mug in Caerphilly scarlet that declared him the, World’s Greatest Uncle. Roger nudged the button for Level Three with his elbow and shuffled over to lean back against the wall of the elevator, glancing sidelong over at the departments latest recruit.

Nobody ever seemed to take their entrance to the Spirit Division with particular grace (eager interns .. or intern, he supposed, since Dennis was the only one they’d ever had, notwithstanding). There was something about the persistent chill and flickering lights and the singular shiver that crawled up the back of your neck whenever you entered the office in the morning that people found off-putting. There had been a time when Roger would placate those fears with explanations about June, their most frequent escape artist, but he had found this did little to soothe his coworkers concerns about their new environment. Michael seemed even less pleased with his transfer than most.