A pile of paper falls off the desk like bubbles floating to the surface.
I dive low, picking them up with calloused hands and frayed patience.
Notifications chime a brief warning before emails pop, pop, pop, pop, like a never-ending stream of consciousness from an unchained mind.
Lights hum overhead; a swarm of fluorescent insects.
My back creaks against the chair. It’s an unwelcome visitor in an inhospitable environment.
Stagnant air makes me gasp for breath.
It’s only 9 AM.
Hipstory 