Will’s alarm slaps him with the familiar dread of being alive with the day just seconds old. In the bathroom his toothbrush can’t get the grit off his teeth and when he spits the sink’s tinged with blood. He stares at the red in his eyes and blinks hard to work up some tears. He dresses slowly and takes the elevator to the basement garage.

He parks five blocks from downtown to minimize outlay and though it’s early morning in October pricks of sweat swell on his forehead by the time he gets to the office tower. It’s too warm for the sport jacket he’s wearing but it’s the only business outfit he has from this decade and it helps hide his paunch.

The interviewer emerges from air conditioning in a fresh white blouse, black silk skirt and her long heels keep her head in the future. Her grin is wide and white, but he sees the micro-expression of disgust as she takes in his age and rivulets of sweat.

She takes him to an interview room and leaves when he says yes to water. While she’s gone he takes off his jacket and hovers near the A/C, but sweat is leaching through his shirt so he puts the jacket back on. He focuses on quieting his breath.

The interviewer returns with water so cold his fillings hurt, then sprints through the interview. She’s blown away by his knowledge and experience. All the things he can do. She’s so bright she’d sparkle but he sees her through a haze and knows she’s just counting the minutes.

“I’m sorry, Will. You’re not quite what we’re looking for.

It’s a different environment than it used to be. We need people who can keep up. You know: sweat less, cough less, breathe less.”

Outside, humidity is in full flower. He takes off his wool sport jacket exposing the dark patches under his arms and walks to the car. Inside the sun glares at him through the windshield, the air like marshmallow.  He opens a window but it makes no difference. He closes his eyes, leans his head back and sits very still with the engine running.