After six voicemails on his cell phone, less than fifteen minutes apart; one email, marked urgent, literally hopping with smiling yellow orbs, shooting arrows at each other; and a message from his secretary Doreen with "please call" in bold red letters at the top, Joe finally returned Julianne's call.             

Something bothered him about Julianne's voice. Her voice seemed shrill, her words pronounced too perfectly, as if she had read a well-rehearsed message from a note card.             

Joe glanced at his desk calendar.  It had been months since he'd seen Julianne.  Doreen knocked on his door, bringing him fresh coffee.  He thanked her and spun around in his leather chair, watching a pair of window-washers on a scaffold. He sipped his coffee and dialed Julianne's number.            

Julianne picked it up on the first ring.            

"Hi there, it's Joe." He propped his feet up on the credenza. "I got your messages."  He picked at a hangnail, the phone cradled on his shoulder.            

"Thanks for calling. I'd like to get together again, just like old times."

Joe tore at a hangnail with his teeth. Old times meant the Art Institute, a late lunch at Bennigan's, blue margaritas, and afternoons at Julianne's apartment, mostly in her bedroom with the blue walls and white canopy bed.  He thought of her hair, swept up into a French knot, and the way it fell all the way to her waist by removing one or two hairpins. His finger bled all over a fax Doreen had left on his desk.             

"I don't think we have anything to talk about--it's over, Julianne," said Joe, "you know I'm married."

Julianne cleared her throat. "We have lots to talk about, Joe.  I think you and I should talk to Ellen."

"Look--you're a nice woman.  You're bright, you're beautiful.  You'll make someone a very happy man.  But not me."

"Joe, you told me you loved me.  You promised we'd be together."  

Joe glanced at his watch.  He was meeting Ellen for lunch.  "Look, Ellen is pregnant.  We're trying to make it work.  Just leave me alone."

There was silence.  Ten seconds crawled by like hours.

Finally Joe said, "Julianne, did you hear me?"

"Yes, Joe, I can see Ellen's expecting a baby."

Joe watched the men balanced on the scaffold.  The glass was a shiny blue wall behind them.

"Joe, Ellen is with me.  We're at Bennigan's, if you'd like to join us."

Joe Jensen smashed his phone against the wall.  Coffee flooded his desk.  And for a brief moment, Joe was standing outside, alone, his back against the freshly-washed blue wall, realizing the scaffold was crashing down, along with the rest of his world, with no hope for rescue.