I sit in my puke green cubicle attempting to look busy as Pompous Lawyer drones on about something entirely unimportant to not just me, but everyone else in my department as well. I send documents to the printer unnecessarily just to look like I am doing something, and so I have a reason to get up from my desk and walk around, shaking the sleep out of my legs and head.

PL is wearing a red and blue striped shirt that his wife clearly picked out for him. We got an email saying that today is his birthday, but no one wishes him well. It would seem unprofessional, almost even more so than when the other girls have fights with their boyfriends on their phones in the conference room.

The printer is squeaky because it is almost out of toner. It sounds like crickets, reminding me of days when I got to spend more time outside than in, teaching kids how to swim and play with clay. I think about taking a nose dive off of the corporate roof into the snow just to wake myself up from the reality that is no longer.

Is it summer yet?