OFFICETHOUGHTS
I finish my coffee and hurry for the subway stop. The boss hates it when I'm
late so I step it up to a light jog. As I enter the subway station my
mechanical movements instinctively reach into my wallet for the token whose
fate after this moment I will never know. I flow like water through the
turnstile and as I enter the subway car a man holds out a hand full of
emptiness. I look away quickly but his image remains. Is he my god? I pull
the daily newspaper from my briefcase and read the headline, "Man Throws Dog
From Highrise Apartment." No further thought on the issue as I flip to the
business section to check my financial situation. Similar people are doing
similar things as we ride the moving machine to our common destination.
Twenty-four minutes later I arrive at my stop and the doors creak open to
allow my passing. Up the stairs to the busy street and into a bright light
shining down from the heavens. I briskly walk along, staring at my feet and
occasionally at my watch. I spot, as I do every day, a grey office building
one block away. I scan the street for cars, ever conscious of being struck
down by a deranged driver. The streetlights flash for my safety and I climb
the shiny stairs to the grey building. I seem to be pulled by an invisible
magnet through the doors and into the lobby. Its force will never diminish.
In the elevator I glance at the door and think about the man with the empty
hand. He is my god, and I his benefactor. No matter, the day has begun. My
cubicle is warm and comfortable. I am the dog, slowly falling to my death.
Ryan Shaw