Day 3, part 1

Well, I'm clocked in now... It's interesting; I find it a lot easier to continue writing about the thing rather than writing the thing itself... It's impossible to screw up talking about something, I think is the reason, if you know what you're talking about at least-- can't say that about the other thing, and even if the penalty of failure is nonexistent, we still fear it. But I'm clocked in, and have to write about something for an hour. Don't think I'm quite into any character's head as much as I should be...

Smith is the name of Michael's boss, maybe even the head of the agency itself. (I'm thinking it's called Tetragrammaton- I really like this name, not only the idea of an alphabet soup agency name but the idea that the true name is unspeakable, not unlike the concept behind many an Eldritch horror.) Smith is some kind of eldritch horror himself- if you saw his face you'd basically go so mad you'd be erased from existence. His true name as well is of course unspeakable, and would inspire the same madness. I have always had the idea for how their first meeting would go down, and so, well, that's what I'll do.

Notice my use of brackets ([])- parts I'm not really sure about but which I figure I can always just rewrite later; I just need to get into the flow of it before I've got time to pick nits.

There was a man sitting in Michael's favorite armchair. His face was entirely bathed in shadow, a smart fedora perched crisply on the top of his head. Michael flicked the light switch on, but the room remained dark- the man had removed the lightbulbs from their sockets [Michael saw as they're sitting by his hand as he lowered them.]
Michael was not surprised by the visitor. This kind of crap happened to him every day. He strode over to the kitchen, and edged the refrigerator door open.
"Who are you, what are you- some kind of, [vampire], or something?" Michael pulled out several Tupperware containers and slapped them on the kitchen counter, kicking the refrigerator door closed behind him.
The man in the shadow raised his head a bit, acting with his whole body since his face was invisible. The perk of the head meant the raise of a single eyebrow.
"Oh, no, no," the man in the dark said. Behind his voice was the sound of bone scraping against bone, stone against stone, steel against steel, flesh against flesh. ["I'm nothing so ordinary."]
Michael slid the breadbox open, grabbed a couple of slices of [wheat] bread. Slathered both in mayonnaise. 

And it looks like I've got only half an hour for now, so that's it of this post.