Peter Mattei - The Deep Whatsis

I take out my phone to call the car service to come pick me up when I see there’s a text I didn’t know I had.

turn arownd !!!

Fuck.

I make a point of not looking around the room, I just stuff my phone back in my jacket pocket and watch Seth and the girls and black guys standing in a little circle. One of the girls is wearing a diagonal-striped Diane von Furstenberg dress from the ’80s. She has the wrong body type for it, but she doesn’t seem to care. In my mind I’m just getting into this heavy critique of her because I don’t want to look around and let Intern think I am looking for her. After a minute or two I realize I forgot to call the car service, but that will entail taking my phone out again, which Intern, if she is indeed watching me from somewhere in the big crumbling warehouse of poseurs, will interpret as my caring.

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