There's a man in my office.
He sits all day. Bent forward towards his computer screen. As if he wants to crawl inside and dissappear. A new reality that isn't real.
Yet he waits. Something might happen. His universe seems defined by four corners. And so is his hope.
His shoulders are always lifted They seem almost glued to his ears. Perhaps he tries to cover his ears.
His desk is empty. His expression never reveals life.
But he isn't there.
Some years ago he got married. He told with a sigh. An unknown force defeated him. There was nothing he could do about it now. Such is life.
I see him running fast out of the office each night as though late for an appointment not to be missed.
At 6 he gave up. Nothing came out of the screen today. Perhaps tomorrow. How can we know.
Tonight I realized he escaped. Terrified. With hate and disgust. The world is a rotten place. Good to have security. At least on that. I told you so anyway.
Society matters. And so does he.
But he is the only one who doesn't know.