(a piece of corporate microfiction)
I leave and look back. I’ll be back tomorrow. That I know, but do I like the fact, the reality of that, that building that everyone extols so vocally, so they won’t be “written up”, or worse? But is worse, worse? I keep walking.. 5:22 my watch says and I could use a glass, some .. something, something to make me feel like I don’t have to look at a clock, or be part of one. I look back again, the king locks the door behind him. Sees me, doesn’t wave. Just to his car. And me to mine. That’s fine.