the dull quarters and the shiny new dimes drop into place in the machine. there's a rumble and there's something waiting for the anonymous user in some back room break room down by their knees.
the feet shuffle out on the cheap linoleum designed to look like the absence of design. a plain so boring that even after years of daily use, of spilled soda cleanups and overloaded potluck plate wipe downs is still so ingrained as nothing that it may as well not even exist.
the door clicks shut with the grace of a politician. which is to say none at all. a rush of air, a thud, a magnetic seal locking down the facility of those poor people who fear retribution for doing...what again? why all the secrecy? why the security? why waste the time?
the paper flutters in her hand as she escorts her document back to her desk. she clears her throat, takes a sip of something warm and soothing and begins typing. she'll repeat this a dozen times today and a dozen tomorrow. she won't think about it. this is a good thing.
and me? i've been daydreaming about the end of the world.
it helps to pass the time.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
i really don't mind not working there anymore
Post a Comment