just another day at work

His mind is clouded with random thoughts, but his hands kept on with the tasks given, by his side what seemed to be an unending pile of documents. Minimal of what is actually assigned to him, mainly of files just pushed onto him, even at the last minute right before the office hours end.

And he typed. And typed. And typed.

As if hypnotized to reach the end of the line.

Until everyone else had left already.

Yet he remained unfazed, as if the microcosm he lives in is within the span of the cluttered desk and tiny cubicle. By the time the clock hit five in the morning, he had finally printed the last set of paperwork, which he had placed on top of the team leader’s table.

Few stretches and he started moving again, the same random thoughts resurfacing, towards the cold stairway. In a few minutes, he reached the rooftop. By then his thoughts had molded into a pitch blank canvas, as if reminding him that he had finally reached the end.

At last, he reached the end.

By then, the city’s just starting to wake up, but standing by the ledge, he just started to close his eyes. Then it was the morning breeze embracing him like a cool blanket, and by the next moment that his eyes had opened, he has already laid down on the asphalt road, reminding him of the tough bed at his rented apartment, staring straight into the dimly lighted sky.

And upon seeing him, the company would start preparing to replace the lost spot, checking through the pool of hoping applicants. His colleagues would see the documents and go on with the meetings, presentations, and chit-chats. And a different face would then be facing his computer, seated on his swivel chair, and take-over his tasks.

Until another mind gets clouded with random thoughts, with the hands still on the keyboard, by the side a pile of documents. Mostly from others, a trifle, the actual work.

And they will type. And type. And type.

As if hypnotized to reach the end of the line.