Page 134 of Under Construction

After two months of rejections, Dennis can't sit idle anymore. Their usual contacts at city hall dodge their calls, vanish for those never-ending "meetings," and send vague emails about being unavailable. They need to find an actual human to talk to.

They wait hours in plastic chairs until a junior clerk waves them in. His tie is crooked, his desk overflowing with papers he clearly doesn't understand.

"The ventilation requirements clearly state—" Dennis spreads their documentation.

"If it's rejected, it's rejected." The clerk doesn't look up from his computer.

"But the central garden design addresses—" Jason tries.

"Look," the clerk drones, "I don't make the rules."

"Then let us speak to someone who does," Dennis says.

"Everyone's in meetings."

"They've been 'in meetings' for two months," Jason's voice rises.

The clerk's phone rings. "Sorry, have to take this. Reschedule at the front desk."

Outside, Dennis rubs his temples. "Talk to Legal, see what options we have."

"What about you?"

"Going to comb through everything again. There has to be something we missed."

Jason squeezes his shoulder and heads off.

Dennis turns—and freezes.

Across the street stands Chris with a woman in typical city hall attire: pencil skirt, blazer, heels clicking on concrete. She passes him an envelope.

Then, she holds his hand with both of hers.

One hand stays on top of his. She squeezes. Strokes his knuckles.

Chris's smile—that soft one Dennis hasn't seen in weeks—makes bile rise in his throat.

Who is she?

What's in that envelope?

Why are they meeting in secret?

How long has this been happening?

The questions multiply like cancer cells.

Logic screams that it's probably work-related—she's dressed for the office, they're meeting in broad daylight.

But his mind spirals.

Maybe she takes Chris home after these meetings. Maybe they have dinner. Maybe Chris has been seeing her—or someone else—this whole time.

Chris somehow thinks he isn’t gay. All Dennis knows is that this would make sense then, wouldn’t it?

All he knows is whatever they had has evaporated like morning dew.

He storms back to site, fury building with each step. The office feels toxic now—Chris could walk in any moment. He needs to make sure he’s not around if that happens.

---