by Mr. W
He drifted into the realization that he was awake; the red numbers on the bedside clock glowed 3:23 in the dark. He wrapped the satin sheets tighter to himself. He could overhear a quiet conversation.
From overhead: “You know I’m his biggest fan.”
From the window: “He doesn’t care how big a fan you are. He cares how useful you can be to him.”
From overhead: “You make him sound selfish.”
From the window: “Don’t let your jealousy over my position color what I say.”
The mattress springs creaked as he sat up. “Guys,” he said, “I’m trying to sleep here.”
“Sorry,” the ceiling and box fans said in unison.