Sunday, February 21st, 2021

The afternoon prayers should start at ten minutes to two. The boss has decreed that. They almost never do. The agent comes through at about that time, proceeding down the corridors and summoning us. He usually sings. On Thursdays, he sings a song to beckon the Sabbath to come to us. On Sundays, he sings a song to Elijah, welcoming the mundane week. When he passes me, I change my glasses and head to the hallway. I’m often the first one there. Others respond less rapidly. The boss is generally among the last, making a grand entrance. When there are ten of us, the prayers start. Sometimes someone has to go back in to round up stragglers. Today, the best singer among us leads the prayers. It’s the anniversary of a relative’s passing, so he recites the Mourner’s Kaddish at the end. The agent has been saying it every day, since one of his relatives passed away a few months ago. He usually speaks the text plainly, in a consistent rhythm. Today, the prayer leader chants it. The agent chants with him, with the same cadence and melody. When we’re done, we head back into the office. A coworker and I stop by the receptionist’s desk and talk about our weekends. As usual, he ran a personal marathon to the beach and back. I got a lot done on the film project. The conversation quickly runs down. His smartwatch rings with an incoming call. He heads to his desk. I make more coffee, then get back to work.