Dead End

Mundane Office Life

Surrounded.

 

Three and a half five-foot-tall walls, covered with a grey-blue colored artificial corkboard, engulf this cell. A desk extends from two adjacent walls, a squeaky swivel chair placed before it. Post-it notes with random unlabeled phone numbers litter the edges of the flat-screen computer monitor, serving no purpose but to remind the detainee of every worthless correspondence ever made in his forsaken hole. Paper clips of various sizes, used staples and a bent letter opener sprawl the expanse of flat desk surface on top of marooned documents, long dismissed from their original duties.

 

A florescent light stoically illuminates from above, the office equivalent of a starless night sky. On the desk, weeks worth of overdue paperwork, the word "PRIORITY" boldly emblazoned across the header, are clearly neglected. No longer are they part of an arduous journey from desk to desk, acquiring signatures from people with no faces. This is the end of the road for those papers.