Gerrit was fortunate in his desk. From it he could see the ocean-going ships enter and exit Rotterdam harbor, seeming about to ram the Erasmus Bridge until it lifted and they slid through. Often, eating lunch, he watched the next hour’s weather slant in from the North Sea and the tall cloud shadows cross the red and orange freight containers while his floor-to-ceiling windows shook.
Meike, his girlfriend, would call or text by one. She was an advertising account executive a few kilometers away in a district of converted warehouses. During the workday, a few minutes were all she could spare, and her voice skidded to a stop.
*see what I did there