‘that building will never hold up,’ i told the foreman, ‘the support beams are made of jello jigglers! this is a terrible approach.’

i demanded to see his certification. it checked out. ‘still though,’ i said, ‘jello jigglers? what mold do you plan on using?’

‘well,’ said the foreman, ‘at first i was thinking dinosaurs, then space ships. a few of the men wanted to use letters, with each man molding and installing his own initials. i loved the idea, you know, seeing as i’m a sentimental guy and all, but i went back and double checked it against the blueprints, and it was a no go. too many of the guys have Ps and Fs and Ts for initials. they’re too top heavy. so we had to go with geometric shapes, mostly rectangles and squares. one big dodecagon in the grand hall.’

i was satisfied. i wrote so in my report. i was fired the next day. two days later, the building collapsed, crushing seven workers. neighbourhood children lived off the rubble for months.

at night, sometimes, i remember the beaming faces of the workers as they mixed the powder, poured the molds, slid them into the giant refrigerators. i think of their families coming to collect their sticky bodies, all the children racing around them, gobbling up jello from the pavement, lampposts, etc.

i think of all of this and my body becomes heavy. i wobble.