The 14th floor

From the 14th floor of a downtown Denver hotel, I can look into the office building across the street. According to the security guy at its front desk, it was built in 1928. I had wandered in to look at the beautiful art deco paintings on the walls. The building is obviously used; people were in and out of it constantly.

But the view from my 14th floor window shows something different. Two floors below are in renovation. I can watch the workers. The floor across from me looks inhabited, but... nothing has changed in three days.

A black sweater is still draped across a desk chair, as if the owner has just gone for a cup of coffee. Papers are stacked. There's a small fan in the window to circulate the air. (Not by the owner of the sweater.) There are pot plants everywhere: in the windows, on the shelves. I hope they're fake.

Why? Because there has been no movement for three days. Is it a museum piece, set up like it was at a not-too-distant past? Was everyone met at the door and handed their pink slip? Black sweater forgotten, the owner turned away? Then why are the lights on every night and day over this tableau?

Maybe it's all been forgotten. Maybe someone needs to come up the 14th floor of the hotel across the street and have a look.