Sterling D'Este

For the Sake of Clarity

I saw the real world for the first time yesterday, sitting in a cubicle underneath a window that showed very little other than the dirty Manhattan skyline. I was slogging along, punching in numbers and numbers and numbers, the click click click of my ordinary keyboard adding to the general drone of office noises. Here and there, the squeak of an old desk chair or the demanding howl of a phone accented the low thrum, but these did little to distract me from the post-lunch work fog. It was all nothing but premiums and percents and this or that insurance claim when a vine, crimson and black and gleaming in the fluorescent lighting, climbed over the top of my cubicle and proceeded down the side nearest to me. It was slow but purposeful and tentacle-like in its movements, its red leaves and thorns rustling slightly as it went on down through the cords and sockets and desk legs and office detritus. I realized I was shocked into staring when it reached the first wheel of my desk chair, so I did the one sensible thing there is to do when something is wrong in the office: I went to IT.