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Work
by Mason Leland
The trees’ reflection ran
like watercolors over the windshield of his car as he rolled slowly down
the lonely grey street. He could already smell the burnt coffee and
bullshit that would meet him; that had met him every working day for the
past 2 years of his life. He pulled his car quietly into the parking
lot, slipping it into his usual spot and then he paused. He allowed the
last few remaining notes to burst loud through the speakers,
spilling through his ears and into his restless mind before turning the
key, allowing his car to sit tired and silent beneath him.
He pulled the pager from his belt and flipped it open. 8:03 am. He knew
they wouldn’t know he was late, even by a minute, and he didn’t really
care if they did. He opened his door and stepped onto the parking lot
pavement, already warm from the suns suggestive embrace. He arched his
body, stretched his back and legs, anything to shake the feeling that
wanted to lock them in place after his long morning drive.
Once again he found himself resisting the urge to climb back into his
car. A notion he fantasized about more often than he would ever like to
admit. He wondered how it would feel not to care, to steer himself back
out across the lonely suburban streets and onto the freeway, the wind
tearing through the open windows of his car and etching out a place of
freedom in his heart. There was a man inside of him that longed for that
freedom. A man that begged and scratched at his psyche every chance he
got. But alas, he was infallibly steadfast and responsible, disgustingly
so by his own estimation.
Without realizing it, his feet began to take him toward the back of the
building. It was experience and habit that told him it was there that he
would run into the fewest talking heads on his way in, allowing him to
forego the inane chit-chat that he had grown so adept at avoiding since
he had started this job. He reached the door, his hand pulling it open,
and there it was; the burnt coffee smell wafting through the air like
chemical agents, dissecting every piece of calm that he was clutching to
in his
mind and casting them into the unsympathetic sprawl of the office where
his cubicle waited for him just a few footsteps away.
He could feel the sweat begin to permeate his feet, thick with longing,
as it had so many times before. He thumbed at the keys in his pocket and
could feel them echoing his longing for salvation. His mind began to
wander and the smell lingered, tightening itself around his thoughts,
causing them to spin lividly out of control.
Then came an idea; a break from the monotonous droning cronyism that had
laid his dreams to rest in the recent months. His heart began to beat
loud in his chest and his footsteps changed direction, quickening their
pace and steering him toward redemption.
He found himself entering into the small break room, his eyes
flickering, driven by mischievous intent, and then zeroing in on the
small, clear coffee pot that sat unsuspecting on its brown-stained metal
perch. A smile broke from his lips for what felt like the first time,
and he crossed the room, removing the near full pot of coffee from its
nesting place and tucking it under his arm in one fluid motion. He made
his way back to the doorway, craning his neck as he peeked around the
corner. Finding the hallway dead, occupied by nothing more than the
humming of fluorescent lights, he quickly exited the room and took the
four or five steps necessary before bounding through the door of the
restroom.
The door swung closed behind him and he looked down at the coffee pot in
his hands and wondered how it had come to this. He had never in his life
suspected that he would be capable of such wonderfully decadent
behavior. The notion itself sent a shiver of delight through his body.
The coffee sat, sloshing a bit from side to side, but generally looking
like it was pretty well accepting of whatever ill will he wished to
inflict upon it. He was almost envious of its calm disposition. He had
fought and kicked and screamed throughout the past year in his attempts
to ward off the impending life of quiet desperation that seemed to be
his future. And now this coffee sat mocking him, welcoming his pathetic
attempt to get even with the complacency that had so relentlessly and
successfully pursued him as of late.
He smiled once more as the realization that he just didn’t care anymore
flooded into his consciousness. He pushed open the stall and, placing
the coffee pot on the back of the toilet he unzipped his pants and
dropped them to the floor. Then, positioning the coffee pot beneath him,
he stared into its murky contents for a moment before beginning to
urinate into its swollen belly, watching as the surface color changed
from greasy black to rusty brown. He topped it off before removing it
from its compromised position and placed it back on the top of the
toilet. He shook and the last few remaining drops of pee fell
carelessly, splashing warm across the toilet seat. Straightening himself
up, his gaze found its way to the window and fixed itself on 2 birds
that were sitting on a branch outside, chirping lazily in the familiar
warmth of the morning sun. He hesitated for a moment, then, without
thinking too hard about it, and without washing his hands, exited the
bathroom and entered back into the stifling hallway, making his way back
towards the break room once more.
As he walked he could now hear the faint sounds of voices, rattling
through walls and swimming about the office like rotting fish. His pace
quickened and he cut fast through the hallway and into the empty break
room. He returned the coffee pot to its throne, and that was that he
thought. He stood a few moments, staring into the pot, its façade of
immortal complacency seemingly undeterred. Smiling now, big like the
last circus clown out of the tiny car, he almost didn’t notice as the
boss entered the break room behind him.
“Ah, good morning Johnson,” said the boss as he pushed past him and
reached for the desecrated coffee pot, removing it from its perch and
filling his sad, crackling ceramic mug.
He watched in awe, his eyes widening with joy, mumbling “Good morning,”
as the boss slowly brought the mug to his lips and begin slurping at its
contents.
Eyeing him with a quisling expression, one hand on his hip and his
glasses tinted lightly with steam, the boss let out a long sigh through
pursed lips. “This is some damn fine coffee Johnson. You look like you
could use a cup.”
“No thank you sir,” he laughed. “I believe I have had enough.”
And then he turned and walked out the door and down the hallway, the
boss shrugging and slurping away behind him. He found his cubicle and
sat down, and for the first time in what felt like years he felt a
blanket of calm warm him from head to toe. He settled into his chair, a
smile once again flashing wide across his tired face.
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