One Glass Table Destroyed
The glass table slid out of the George’s left hand as he grabbed at the railing. Gruenwald tried to support the weight of the table from his position on the landing but he could feel it slipping toward George. If they could just slide it onto the landing, they might be able to get it on up two more floors.
Gruenwald thought about his law school training and his position with the prestigious firm of Mushmouth and Threefoot before this horrible recession. The firm had gone belly up and, just like that, he was downsized and out on the street. Recession they called it. He knew it was a depression.
Gruenwald had been homeless before he got this under-the-table furniture-moving job from George. Sometimes he got paid and sometimes he didn’t.
He could no longer hold the table. “George, watch out, it’s slipping.”
They both watched as the table crashed on the floor below.
One glass table destroyed.
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