“Oh, you have finally arrived.” Surprise rings forth, bringing a smooth warm voice intonated with a renewed sincerity (Kelly, 204). “You must forgive my insolence, I am afraid I hadn’t noticed you until now.” Descending into the mouth of his grandiose velvet modern-wingback chair, he places his glass on a table designated for when an unexpected visitor arrives and one must sit and set their glass to allow for events to be… How would one put it? Set in motion. As if the clock’s ticking responded to one’s presence in the first place or vice versa. For the natures of abstraction can never be construed with certainty.
“Or can they be? It all comes full circle to the old question of a tree falling in a forest, no one being in proximity, and so forth. Would you care for a drink?” A genuine smile masquerades itself upon his face, born with anticipation for the rest of the evening. “You would? Excellent! Lucy my dear, could you please fetch our guest a glass of,” lowering into a whisper, “How does vermouth sound? Fantastic.” Louder and directed at Lucy, stirring somewhere beyond view, “A glass of vermouth for our fine guest” (Anderson, The Master).
He claps his hands together with satisfaction. “What a beautiful thing! To have an old friend back once again.” There is a shimmer in the man’s eyes, never wholly revealing itself, yet promising an awakened soul has been overwrought with joy for the unexpected arrival. “And you always were such a good friend. You always were.” A tear forming in his palpebral crevice is quickly dismissed with a handkerchief. “Look at me, tearing up.”
A long streak of black approaches, a wine-filled glass in her right hand. Underhanding you the drink, her ominous figure hovers overhead. The streak’s frame is otherwise unspectacular save for a hunch that develops upon reaching her higher altitudes. The bend precariously dangles her head and hair over her shoulder’s edge. “Thank you, Lucy. Oh, and please do stand up straight in front of our guest.” His smile evens out by the time she is finally out of the room and out of sight.
Of course, there was the question looming in the room’s ether, “Yes, the question.” A question which would not be outright difficult, “But may take some time to unpack.” He leans forward bringing his hands to an interlacing triangle. “There are those who would say, ‘You could find nothing in everything.'” While others would propose, ‘You could find everything in nothing.’ “So which is it” (Lamar, BLOOD.)?