“Where’ve you been?” Sara asked as soon as he entered. “You’re four hours late.”

Jared didn’t respond. He leaned his briefcase against his nightstand, then went straight to the bathroom. For the past two and a half weeks, their conversations were becoming shorter and more sterilized, eroding to the point of near silence. Office news was clearly off-limits, but now, the tension had begun to extend to small talk as well.

When Jared came out of the bathroom, Sara was under the covers, her back turned toward her husband. Suddenly, she heard Jared ask, “Were you going through my briefcase?”

“What?” Sara asked, turning over.

“Were you going through my briefcase?” Jared repeated, pointing to the floor. “When I went into the bathroom, it was standing up straight. Now it’s facedown on the rug.”

Laughing, Sara said, “I know this may surprise you, but there’s this thing we call gravity.”

“Don’t give me sarcasm!” he shouted. “I’m serious!”

Caught unawares by his sudden hostility, Sara asked, “What’s wrong with you?”

“What do you think is wrong? I caught you-”

“You didn’t catch anything,” Sara shot back. “You’re just pissed because you’re finally realizing that you’re going to lose this case.”

“Don’t say that!” he yelled. “I’m not going to lose!” His eyes were blazing with a look Sara had never seen on his face before. Gone was his usual unclouded confidence. In its place was pure desperation.

Trying to calm him down, she said, “Let’s just call it a night and save the fighting for tomorrow.”

“I’m serious, Sara, I’m not going to lose.”

“I’m sure you won’t.”

“Did you hear what I said? I’m not losing.”

“Jared, how do you want me to respond to that?” Sara asked. “‘You’re right’? ‘You’ll never lose’?”

“I just want you to take me seriously.”

Sara didn’t reply.

“Don’t ignore me like that,” Jared said. “Do you take me seriously or not?”

“If you have to ask, the answer doesn’t matter.”

“Well, I have to ask. So give me an answer.”

Turning away from her husband, Sara said, “Go fuck yourself.”

When Jared returned to Pop’s apartment, it was almost one in the morning. Still upset, he tried to keep his thoughts focused on the outcome of the upcoming motions. Even if only half of them went his way, he thought as he opened the door, he was still in good shape. Now well accustomed to the smells of Pop’s apartment, Jared didn’t pay attention to the mustiness that had seemed to be suffocating him when he first arrived. He didn’t even notice the pictures of Sara that used to taunt him every night. But as he walked into the apartment, he did notice the 1946 vintage electric fan that was, for some reason, now spinning.

One of Pop’s best old keepsakes, the powder-blue art deco fan had been built by General Electric in the years before they made the metal blades childproof with an adequate protective cage. “And it still works,” Pop used to brag whenever the subject came up.

Watching the fan as it oscillated on the side table next to the couch, Jared knew something was wrong. When he had left this morning, the fan was turned off. And with the arrival of winter, only a lunatic would still be…

“Guess who?” Kozlow asked as he bolted out of the hall closet. Just as Jared turned around, Kozlow jabbed Jared in the nose with the palm of his hand. “They were in the office today!” Kozlow shouted as blood ran from Jared’s nose. “They were in the office and then in the basement! How the hell did that happen?” Before Jared could answer, Kozlow gave him a knee to the stomach. “C’mon, hotshot, explain that one to me!”

Doubled over in pain, Jared noticed a broom that had fallen out of the closet when Kozlow jumped out. All he had to do was grab it. But before he made a single move, Kozlow followed Jared’s gaze and turned around. “You were going to use this against me?” Kozlow asked, picking up the broom. With a quick swing, he smashed Jared in the ribs. “Answer me!” He hit him again in the shoulder. Then again in the ribs. Then again in the shoulder. “Why aren’t you answering me?” Kozlow screamed as Jared dropped to the floor.

Standing behind his victim, Kozlow put the broom under Jared’s neck and pulled tight. Choking for air, Jared fought wildly to wrench the broom from his neck. He dug his fingers against his throat, trying to get some leverage. It was no use, though. Kozlow wouldn’t let go. Jared continued to gasp and his face flushed red.

With a sharp tug up, Kozlow forced Jared to his feet and pushed him forward. They approached the edge of the couch. On the nearby side table, the fan was still spinning. When Jared realized where Kozlow was heading, he went wild. In a roar of adrenaline, he planted his feet and pushed backwards, sending both himself and Kozlow crashing into a wall full of picture frames. Glass rained to the floor. The sudden fit of energy had clearly caught Kozlow by surprise, but within seconds it didn’t seem to matter. Maintaining a firm grip on the broom, and holding it taut against Jared’s neck, Kozlow was once again in control. He shoved Jared toward the blades of the fan. Jared was squirming and his hands grasped violently at every nearby object – anything to stop him from reaching the couch. He pulled over the lamp, kicked over the wooden coffee table, and pressed his feet against the sofa. But the more Jared fought, the harder Kozlow pushed.

With one final heave, Kozlow threw Jared facedown on the arm of the couch and pressed his knee into Jared’s back. Kozlow picked up the fan and dropped it on the corner of the couch. Jared pulled his head back, his face only a few inches from the blades of the fan. Kozlow grabbed him by the hair and slowly pressed forward.

“You promised us that you’d win,” Kozlow said. “Isn’t that what you said? That you’d definitely win?”

“Later…” Jared coughed. “The motions.”

“Fuck later. This is for now,” Kozlow said, pushing Jared’s face even closer.

Jared turned his head to the side, buying himself the tiniest amount of space. Then Kozlow twisted him back, so that Jared’s chin faced forward. He was so close to the fan, he could smell the dust on the spinning blades.

“Tell me when it hurts,” Kozlow said.

Only millimeters away from the fan, Jared gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. Kozlow smirked. And Jared screamed.

The next morning, Conrad and Guff were standing outside the courtroom, looking for Sara. “I can’t believe she’s late,” Conrad said. “This is the second time.”

“Maybe something came up,” Guff said.

“What could possibly come up? What else is she working on?”

“Her archery skills? Her tetherball game? How should I know?”

Looking at his watch, Conrad realized it was time to go inside. As he pushed open the swinging door to the courtroom, he saw Jared and Kozlow sitting on a bench in the back. Jared had a two-inch piece of gauze covering the end of his chin. Walking up to his opponent, Conrad said, “Nice to see you.”

“You, too,” Jared said flatly.

“What happened to your face?”

“None of your business.”

“Have it your way. You seen your wife?”

“No. Why?”

“Because I need to speak to her, and I’m not sure where she is.”

“You did fine without her last time,” Kozlow said, laughing.

“That’s funny,” Conrad said. “I hope you’re laughing like that at your sentencing hearing. It’s a great way to show everyone what a hump you are.”

“Okay, we get the picture,” Jared said, standing up. “You’re a real tough guy. Now get away from my client before I file harassment charges.”

Standing face-to-face with Jared, Conrad said, “I guess you have no idea how hard it is to prove harassment.”

“And you must have no idea how hard it is to be on the receiving end of the suit. Even if you win, it’ll consume six months of your life.”