A silver spoon

The night invades the room leaving the desk lamp alone to guide a path. The dim lamp lights the surface of the station exposing what, at first glance, appears to be clutter orbiting a pile of loose leaf. The clutter though is not aimless debri, every item has its place, edges parallel to that of its counter parts, and in the center the writing paper is lit like the sun, knowing that if it wasn't there the entire system would be lifeless and unused.
The door silently drifts open, the light of the hallway grows along the floor boards creating a path to the leather bound seat at the head of the desk. A man steps in, his shadow a silhouette in the pyramid of hallway light, his footsteps soft yet still echoing in contrast to the silence. A light flick of the wrist and the room turns dark again with only the single beacon left illuminating the paper. The scent of rain accompanying a breeze through the cracked window, rustling leafs make his footsteps slightly less apparent toward the end of his journey to the safety of the station.
Tumblers click as his key reaches its depths, his wrist turns in relief and anticipation for what waits within. The entire station and surrounding room disappear, his focus completely on the glint of his solution. He forgets everything as he reaches inside, the unwritten words of his livelihood drift away, the un-met needs of his family forgotten, every regret left in the past and every fear pushed into the future.
A silver spoon, originally chosen because of an old wives tale regarding precious metals killing bacteria, although he never really believed it. He enjoys the rebellion of acting so depraved with an item of such reverence. He sees humor in raising his middle finger by putting a flame to the bottom, and he feels it a defense for that which he loves, to use what is set aside for special occasions, because this is special. He ignores the filth he feels through the routine by focusing on the silver spoon and by the end he will have found the indifference to puncture his skin.
He's lost all motivation to change this now, he tried in the past, yet with no avail. He couldn't handle a world with out coming here, and now he had finally reached a point where he couldn't handle a world with his spoon either. This was the last time, he decided that before he cracked the door and watched the light guide him here. As the pin prick left his arm ,and his belt loosened, he looked at his desk. This was once a place of great pride and accomplishment, now it was simply an excuse to come meet with his spoon.
That familiar feeling was the closest thing to serenity he had ever known. As he felt everything slow to a halt, knowing that this was the last time, he scribbled quickly on the top piece of loose leaf. He gracelessly fell to the desk top, the lamp crashed to the floor leaving the bulb shattered and the room black...
After three quiet knocks she opened the door and was instatly met with the presence of death. This wasn't going to be another ambulance ride overflowing with fear, this wasn't the beginning of another month alone while he was in a treatment center, this was what she had always pushed to the back of her mind. She had tried to get that key so many times but he held it closer than she could ever get, the same way he held the spoon before an intervention motivated him to hide it in the drawer.
The drawer never fooled her though, she knew. Just as she knew now that they would never have another argument, she would never leave him again, and that she was stuck with the only bitterness to grieve. Her heart cringed as she began to think about telling the children, the pain bringing her to her knees. That's when she saw it, a single piece of loose leaf paper, a once great mans dying words. "I'll finally know relief."

Author's Note

I'm not well educated grammatically so please let me know where I could improve, in all areas for that matter. Other than that just give me your honest opinion. Also if anyone can tell me what kind of writing this is and what would be the best tags for it id appreciate it. I don't know these things. Any opinions about the story itself is also appreciated.

Reviews

[Xander Lewis]

I didn't spot any grammatical problems in the writing. I'm wondering though, is there maybe any way to break up the text a bit and separate it into paragraphs? It might just be my short attention span, but to me, a large amount of text all in one paragraph is a little challenging to get through. It might also help the flow of the piece.

[Landen Fergus]

Thank you. I appreciate that. I knew something looked off when I saw the full page.