late
I’m here at work still, it’s late, I should go home. Being at work late makes you start to question things about your life that you might not otherwise think about. Things like, do I actually have a life? Could they put any more sugar on these dried cantaloupe slices? Why does my office plant seem to grow better at my old company when it has real sun here? Why does one of my pod-mates keep an unopened Wyder’s Pear Cider on the windowsill? Am I allowed to drink it if I’m here late? How long do you officially have to stay here to be the last one to leave?
One of the other designers is still here. I can never seem to leave after her. She sometimes stays at her boyfriend’s house to avoid having to travel all the way to the city at night. That’s where I’m going after work. To my boyfriend’s house. Oh wait, my boyfriend lives in Pennsylvania. Well, maybe I can just go there next week or something.
There are these giant rainbow dots on the floor here, glued to the carpet. I keep tripping on them. It’s very annoying. I’m going home now.
