Edwin carried his stuffed bear under his left arm as he entered the office building. Under his right arm was the weekly paper.

He took the stairs all the way up. He’d go up one flight, then walk the length of the floor. He walked through the mail room (floor one), purchasing (floor two), accounting (floor three). He’d go all the way through the department past the cubicles, then up the stairwell at the other side of the building. He went on like this for ages. Taking forever. People staring at him. His five-hundred dollar shoes softly padding across the worn-down berber carpet.

At the top floor, he unlocked his office, went inside, then locked the door behind him. In his executive bathroom, he shut the door, turned on the water, then opened the linen closet. Stack by stack with the bear resting on the floor next to the sink, Edwin emptied the closet of all the white cotten towels (pre-fluffed prior to internment in the closet), then reached behind himself to grab the bear’s stuffed arm.

“Come on, Mr. Bugsy,” he whispered. He kicked off his shoes and crawled inside the closet on all fours, his silk tie dragging on the Italian tile floor. “We’ll be safe in here. When they figure out what happened, they’ll never think to look for you in here.”