Office despondency

Drowsiness consumed his psyche, he couldn't walk or talk even if he wanted to, yet he found himself staring at a computer screen he wished would stop working without him.

But it didn't. It kept typing code in front of his face, though his vision was far too hazed to read any of the script. The gentle whirr of the fan underneath his laptop lulled his eyelids into oblivion.

This, he dreamed, was a dream.

But it wasn't.

Ten hour-old coffee stained already brown glass with caffeine and chlorogenic acid, while a florescent tube flickered with surges of electricity, that when observed from up close, reminds one of a bad movie.

Paper mountains dwarfed the emptiness that filled that corner of the floor. Cubicles sectioned off a maze in which to become buried, a stepping stone for corporate giants.

The only sound was the whirr of a laptop, whose keys then gave taste to his drool that carened gracefully and silently but florescently radiant towards the shift key.

It landed with a thud of microdecibels and the office plants rejoiced that the rains were coming. Family members contained in frames chattered away silently with one another so he could sleep.

Dust mites stalked a dust bunny into a corner where they could more easily make the kill, while power strips and computers flashed their indicators at the carpet.

He opened his eyes to find his bedroom and his wife laying next to him. Dreams about the office, yet again.
What was he going to do with himself, he wondered.

Then the water cooler gurgled, and the tube popped with static electricity. An early morning fax ran from Tianjin and he lifted his heavy head with a craned neck. Another night spent at the office.

He poured out last night's pot, made a new one that essentially tasted the same. Got on the phone and called the house. His wife and only child weren't there, and they weren't coming back.