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Description
Tomorrow
The clicking of computer keys and the buzz of multiple telephones going off filled the call center on the eighth floor of Brightman Plaza. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and the smell of coffee lingered in the air. I was sitting in my cubicle gazing outside when I noticed a crow that was frantically trying to catch a worm, or at least that is what it appeared to be doing. What other explanation would there be for pecking repeatedly into the grass? As I was intently watching the crow, waiting to see the result of its strenuous labor, I heard my name being called out. I rotated my swivel chair around until I could see where the origin of the call had come from. He was a short man with a gray beard and an authoritative look to him.
"Mr. Alder?" he repeated.
"Yes? That's me," I responded, noticing how his gray beard rustled against his navy turtleneck sweater when he spoke; somehow reminding me of fall and leaves blowing in the wind.
"You have a package waiting for you at the main office, " he replied sternly, then abruptly turned around and walked off.
"Ok, thanks..." I whispered to his back as he turned around a cubicle. How strange, I thought to myself, I most certainty was not expecting a package and the man didn't even bother to tell me who sent it. Anyways, I would rather waste half-an-hour going to the office and coming back than answering the lengthy calls of seemingly mostly emotionally unstable elderly folks. I turned my computer screen off and got up to start on my route towards the main office when my pants snagged onto a knife that was silently resting at the bottom of my swivel chair, which I most appropriately nick-named Mr. Swivel. It took only a second to release the knife from my pant leg; I figured the man with the sandwich cart must have dropped it. As I started on my way towards the office I found it hard to ignore the glances of many of the employees, some simply glancing upward while others put on a strange snarling expression. I chose to ignore this. As I continued walking I noticed that my left eyebrow was twitching convulsively, probably due to large amount of coffee I routinely consume; I'm not saying I have a caffeine addiction, but it would definitely go under that category. It all started when I began working here a year ago, the coffee was free and a great way to waste time, especially with the extremely long lines with seemingly everyone drinking it. Although, I now get my coffee at the local cafe, it tastes better and I no longer have to make awkward small talk with the other people in line.
“Bwahahahahaha!” exclaimed a bulky lady in a cubicle as I passed bye, startling me and causing me to jump back. I peered over the divider to see her watching a video the consisted of cats dressed in costumes.
“Oh, my!” she giggled, snorting occasionally. My hand slipped, causing the divider to rustle. The lady slowly turned her head around till she faced me; “Scram!” she bellowed, spitting wildly, “You twisted straw man!”
I quickly turned around continued on my route. Inside my head, the pictures of cats continued to flash brightly. The kittens' giant eyes peered into my inner soul daring, no forcing, me to pet them. I extended my arm awaiting the soft fur of the tantalizing kittens, causing me to leap forward and land sprawled out on the dark hardwood floor. My eyes burst open, I must have been daydreaming. I blinked rapidly attempting to fight against the bright lights. I could feel a migraine setting in, making my head throb with pain. I slowly made my way back up to my feet. The world seemed to be spinning violently under my feet. I braced myself against the wall, watching through squinted eyes as people gazed at me questionably and then hurried on. I guess that's their normal response when they see someone in need of help, hurry on and get out of the situation. I scoffed silently, but then again I would have probably done the same thing. I took a minute before I began to feel alert again. This was the first time I've experienced something so strange, it must have been the extra cup of coffee I had.
As I continued making my way to the main office, I was halted by the scent of cinnamon and bread. My migraine had just gone away and I became fully aware of my hunger; my stomach grumbled not allowing me to forget this. I looked up at the clock, it was twelve thirteen, approximately the time I would buy a sandwich from the sandwich man, Herbert. Herbert was a German immigrant, probably mid-fifties, who spoke with a heavy accent and spoke sternly. As I neared towards the room where the rich fragrance was coming from a small woman walked out.
“Go ahead and have some scones, they're for everyone,” she told me as she rushed by, as if reading my mind.
“I will thank you!” I responded hurriedly.
“Enjoy!” the lady responded, as she glanced back and smiled. I found myself smiling due to her sunny disposition. She reminded me of some fictional grandmother, who always had candy with her and swallowed you up with her hugs.
I decided that I would eat some scones now, rather than wait till I came back from the office, not only was I starving, but some ravished coworkers might eat them all. I walked into the quaint room where the scones were awaiting me, the smell of freshly baked dough and spices enveloped my lungs, leaving me in awe for a second. The scones rested on two large platters, with what appeared to be rabbits painted on the bottom; they were each covered with a rich layer of frosting, arousing my appetite even more. I grabbed three scones and sat down in a nearby chair. I bit into my first scone; the rich, spiced dough filled my throat with warmth. I was halfway done with my second scone, when I recalled my gluten allergy; I glanced at my hand, already noticing the rash that was soon to take over my body. I grasped for my medication to counteract my allergy symptoms, only to discover that I forgot it in my coat pocket. I leaped from my chair and started to sprint towards my desk. I traversed several feet when my foot caught on the edge of a rug, pulling me down. I attempted to stop my descent by putting my arms in front of my body. Unfortunately my reflexes were never quite good. My head hit the hardwood floor forcefully, causing me to lose consciousness.
I woke up laying in a black leather recliner. The walls were all painted a light gray color, with several painted pictures lining the wall, some of nature while others abstract.
“Finally awake, I see,” said a man, as my eyes wandered resting upon his figure. He looked as if he was in his mid-forties, his black hair had started to gray, and his thin black-rimmed glasses rested neatly on his arched nose. He was sitting behind his desk in a matching black leather chair. “So, how are you?” he asked, awaiting a response out of me.
“Good,” I replied, noticing that my rash had subsided. “Where am I?” I asked.
“My office. I'm Mr. Hudson.” He replied, extending his right arm over his desk to shake my hand. I reached out grasping his hand, only momentarily, before releasing. “What's your name?” Mr. Hudson added.
“Roger Alder.” I responded, “And I take it you, or someone else, dragged me in here after I lost conscientiousness?”
“Someone else did,” he replied. “Though I can't remember his name,” he added, gazing upward to the right and stroking his chin, deep in thought. “I think It started with a J. Was it John?... No. Maybe Jasper or Jaden.”
“Anyways,” I interrupted, “Thanks for letting me rest in your office. I hope I wasn't too much of a bother.”
“Oh, of course not.” he answered, “It gets quite boring around here. I usually just check my e-mail, or pet Griselda.”
“Griselda?” I asked, I didn't notice any pet of any kind during my visit.
“Yes. My cat,” he said as he rolled his chair out from behind his desk, petting a white cat that rested on his lap.
Wow, I guess these people must really love cats, first the lady with the cat video and now this. “Um... Interesting,” I mumbled. “Well, I better get going.”
“Okay. It was great meeting you!” he exclaimed while slowly petting his cat.
“Yeah,” I said with an awkward smile, quickly getting up and opening the door. Once outside of Mr. Hudson's office I was surprised to find that I was incredibly close to the main office. It was straight across the hall. I looked at my cellphone to check the time; it was twelve fifty-two. It definitely took me much longer than expected to reach the office.
I winced as I grasped the stinging cold door-handle, opening the door that lead into the office. The heavy scent of lavender hit me as I entered the room, I noticed a lady continuously spraying some air-freshener. Her back was turned from me .
“Excuse me. I'm here for some mail,” I said, attempting to draw her attention.
“Oh, hello dear.” she exclaimed, turning around and rushing behind her desk, “You said you were here for some mail?”
“Yes, that's right,” I responded. “It should be under Alder, Roger Alder.”
“Okay...” she muttered leaning over looking through some packages, “Here it is!” she declared holding up a small brown cardboard box.
“Thank you,” I replied, slightly smiling. I took the box from her and went to the table in the corner to open it up. It took a bit of time to remove the tape from the box. I always despised cardboard boxes, they always seemed to suck all the moisture out of my hand and leave them dry and dead looking. I slowly opened the box, trying hard to get the picture of my hands looking like those of a seventy year old man who had just come out of a hot bath. Inside of the box I found a coffee travel mug. I forgot that I had bought it off the internet; I was bored and decided it would be nice to have a convenient way to carry my coffee, and that is exactly what this product promised me. As excited as I felt I should be I couldn't help but think of all the trouble I went through to get here. I felt like I deserved some award. I headed towards the door. On my way I noticed an envelope under a cabinet, it must have accidentally fallen there. I threw my box away and then headed to pick up the envelope. I went over to it and then picked it up, the date on the envelope showed today's date, it must have been dropped just hours earlier. It was simply addressed to the eight floor of Brightman Plaza, so I decided I, like everyone on the eight floor, had the right to open it. I ripped the envelope open and pulled out the letter. I began to read the letter. It was from the NYCFD(New York City Fire Department); It began by talking about how they insisted on the evacuation off the building and that they were going to send over a couple groups of professionals and the gas company to help with the problem. A problem? Why wasn't I told? I continued reading; it talked about a gas leak and then went on talking about the specifics of the gas leak, about some strange psychological side effects, and something about insurance. I got up quickly and was about to rush into the manager's office when the door into the office abruptly opened. In walked a man wearing a uniform of some kind and had a surgical mask hanging around his neck.
“We have to ask you to ask you to evacuate the building,” he stated. He then continued to rush us out. I went toward the stairs following the group of people rushing along, most of them looking terrified. As I descended down the stairs I tried my hardest not get run over by some of the people who decided that screaming and running frantically down the stairs would be a good idea. Once I exited the building and got outside there were a group of nurses, or some type of people that wear scrubs, waiting and asking people if they were alright. I, with my deep seeded hatred of injections and hospitals, avoided them and decided to instead go on a walk back to my apartment. While walking I noticed that I hadn't taken my jacket with me, at least it wasn't too cold. I couldn't believe that the fire department had managed to send a letter somehow in a couple hours, yet failed to call the office instead. Anyways, needless to say, I was definitely not going back to that job. I was halfway to my apartment when I came to the cafe that I usually stopped by to get my coffee and couldn't help but notice the help wanted sign. I do incredibly enjoy coffee and the cafe was always the highlight of my day. Why not, I asked myself. It will be a job I actually enjoy for once. I'll come and interview for the position tomorrow, when the cafe will be open and I’ll be fully rested. The crisp breeze ruffled my hair as I continued home. The sun was just going down and it cast lengthy shadows on the ground. I realized that it has been forever, or at least that is what it seemed like; I could actually plan my day tomorrow, rather than base it around work. This uncertainty made my brain overflow with ideas, never had I thought about life this way. It no longer felt like following a path, but rather forging one. My feet began to grow cold, but I could hardly notice with my mind deep in concentration. I neared my apartment, made it up the stairs, and luckily found that I left the door unlocked, not needing the keys that I left in my coat pocket. I locked the door behind me, and collapsed on my couch. My eyes drooped downwards; my tired body overcame my anxious mind as I began to dose off into sleep. Tomorrow will wait for me.

Description
Tomorrow
The clicking of computer keys and the buzz of multiple telephones going off filled the call center on the eighth floor of Brightman Plaza. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and the smell of coffee lingered in the air. I was sitting in my cubicle gazing outside when I noticed a crow that was frantically trying to catch a worm, or at least that is what it appeared to be doing. What other explanation would there be for pecking repeatedly into the grass? As I was intently watching the crow, waiting to see the result of its strenuous labor, I heard my name being called out. I rotated my swivel chair around until I could see where the origin of the call had come from. He was a short man with a gray beard and an authoritative look to him.
"Mr. Alder?" he repeated.
"Yes? That's me," I responded, noticing how his gray beard rustled against his navy turtleneck sweater when he spoke; somehow reminding me of fall and leaves blowing in the wind.
"You have a package waiting for you at the main office, " he replied sternly, then abruptly turned around and walked off.
"Ok, thanks..." I whispered to his back as he turned around a cubicle. How strange, I thought to myself, I most certainty was not expecting a package and the man didn't even bother to tell me who sent it. Anyways, I would rather waste half-an-hour going to the office and coming back than answering the lengthy calls of seemingly mostly emotionally unstable elderly folks. I turned my computer screen off and got up to start on my route towards the main office when my pants snagged onto a knife that was silently resting at the bottom of my swivel chair, which I most appropriately nick-named Mr. Swivel. It took only a second to release the knife from my pant leg; I figured the man with the sandwich cart must have dropped it. As I started on my way towards the office I found it hard to ignore the glances of many of the employees, some simply glancing upward while others put on a strange snarling expression. I chose to ignore this. As I continued walking I noticed that my left eyebrow was twitching convulsively, probably due to large amount of coffee I routinely consume; I'm not saying I have a caffeine addiction, but it would definitely go under that category. It all started when I began working here a year ago, the coffee was free and a great way to waste time, especially with the extremely long lines with seemingly everyone drinking it. Although, I now get my coffee at the local cafe, it tastes better and I no longer have to make awkward small talk with the other people in line.
“Bwahahahahaha!” exclaimed a bulky lady in a cubicle as I passed bye, startling me and causing me to jump back. I peered over the divider to see her watching a video the consisted of cats dressed in costumes.
“Oh, my!” she giggled, snorting occasionally. My hand slipped, causing the divider to rustle. The lady slowly turned her head around till she faced me; “Scram!” she bellowed, spitting wildly, “You twisted straw man!”
I quickly turned around continued on my route. Inside my head, the pictures of cats continued to flash brightly. The kittens' giant eyes peered into my inner soul daring, no forcing, me to pet them. I extended my arm awaiting the soft fur of the tantalizing kittens, causing me to leap forward and land sprawled out on the dark hardwood floor. My eyes burst open, I must have been daydreaming. I blinked rapidly attempting to fight against the bright lights. I could feel a migraine setting in, making my head throb with pain. I slowly made my way back up to my feet. The world seemed to be spinning violently under my feet. I braced myself against the wall, watching through squinted eyes as people gazed at me questionably and then hurried on. I guess that's their normal response when they see someone in need of help, hurry on and get out of the situation. I scoffed silently, but then again I would have probably done the same thing. I took a minute before I began to feel alert again. This was the first time I've experienced something so strange, it must have been the extra cup of coffee I had.
As I continued making my way to the main office, I was halted by the scent of cinnamon and bread. My migraine had just gone away and I became fully aware of my hunger; my stomach grumbled not allowing me to forget this. I looked up at the clock, it was twelve thirteen, approximately the time I would buy a sandwich from the sandwich man, Herbert. Herbert was a German immigrant, probably mid-fifties, who spoke with a heavy accent and spoke sternly. As I neared towards the room where the rich fragrance was coming from a small woman walked out.
“Go ahead and have some scones, they're for everyone,” she told me as she rushed by, as if reading my mind.
“I will thank you!” I responded hurriedly.
“Enjoy!” the lady responded, as she glanced back and smiled. I found myself smiling due to her sunny disposition. She reminded me of some fictional grandmother, who always had candy with her and swallowed you up with her hugs.
I decided that I would eat some scones now, rather than wait till I came back from the office, not only was I starving, but some ravished coworkers might eat them all. I walked into the quaint room where the scones were awaiting me, the smell of freshly baked dough and spices enveloped my lungs, leaving me in awe for a second. The scones rested on two large platters, with what appeared to be rabbits painted on the bottom; they were each covered with a rich layer of frosting, arousing my appetite even more. I grabbed three scones and sat down in a nearby chair. I bit into my first scone; the rich, spiced dough filled my throat with warmth. I was halfway done with my second scone, when I recalled my gluten allergy; I glanced at my hand, already noticing the rash that was soon to take over my body. I grasped for my medication to counteract my allergy symptoms, only to discover that I forgot it in my coat pocket. I leaped from my chair and started to sprint towards my desk. I traversed several feet when my foot caught on the edge of a rug, pulling me down. I attempted to stop my descent by putting my arms in front of my body. Unfortunately my reflexes were never quite good. My head hit the hardwood floor forcefully, causing me to lose consciousness.
I woke up laying in a black leather recliner. The walls were all painted a light gray color, with several painted pictures lining the wall, some of nature while others abstract.
“Finally awake, I see,” said a man, as my eyes wandered resting upon his figure. He looked as if he was in his mid-forties, his black hair had started to gray, and his thin black-rimmed glasses rested neatly on his arched nose. He was sitting behind his desk in a matching black leather chair. “So, how are you?” he asked, awaiting a response out of me.
“Good,” I replied, noticing that my rash had subsided. “Where am I?” I asked.
“My office. I'm Mr. Hudson.” He replied, extending his right arm over his desk to shake my hand. I reached out grasping his hand, only momentarily, before releasing. “What's your name?” Mr. Hudson added.
“Roger Alder.” I responded, “And I take it you, or someone else, dragged me in here after I lost conscientiousness?”
“Someone else did,” he replied. “Though I can't remember his name,” he added, gazing upward to the right and stroking his chin, deep in thought. “I think It started with a J. Was it John?... No. Maybe Jasper or Jaden.”
“Anyways,” I interrupted, “Thanks for letting me rest in your office. I hope I wasn't too much of a bother.”
“Oh, of course not.” he answered, “It gets quite boring around here. I usually just check my e-mail, or pet Griselda.”
“Griselda?” I asked, I didn't notice any pet of any kind during my visit.
“Yes. My cat,” he said as he rolled his chair out from behind his desk, petting a white cat that rested on his lap.
Wow, I guess these people must really love cats, first the lady with the cat video and now this. “Um... Interesting,” I mumbled. “Well, I better get going.”
“Okay. It was great meeting you!” he exclaimed while slowly petting his cat.
“Yeah,” I said with an awkward smile, quickly getting up and opening the door. Once outside of Mr. Hudson's office I was surprised to find that I was incredibly close to the main office. It was straight across the hall. I looked at my cellphone to check the time; it was twelve fifty-two. It definitely took me much longer than expected to reach the office.
I winced as I grasped the stinging cold door-handle, opening the door that lead into the office. The heavy scent of lavender hit me as I entered the room, I noticed a lady continuously spraying some air-freshener. Her back was turned from me .
“Excuse me. I'm here for some mail,” I said, attempting to draw her attention.
“Oh, hello dear.” she exclaimed, turning around and rushing behind her desk, “You said you were here for some mail?”
“Yes, that's right,” I responded. “It should be under Alder, Roger Alder.”
“Okay...” she muttered leaning over looking through some packages, “Here it is!” she declared holding up a small brown cardboard box.
“Thank you,” I replied, slightly smiling. I took the box from her and went to the table in the corner to open it up. It took a bit of time to remove the tape from the box. I always despised cardboard boxes, they always seemed to suck all the moisture out of my hand and leave them dry and dead looking. I slowly opened the box, trying hard to get the picture of my hands looking like those of a seventy year old man who had just come out of a hot bath. Inside of the box I found a coffee travel mug. I forgot that I had bought it off the internet; I was bored and decided it would be nice to have a convenient way to carry my coffee, and that is exactly what this product promised me. As excited as I felt I should be I couldn't help but think of all the trouble I went through to get here. I felt like I deserved some award. I headed towards the door. On my way I noticed an envelope under a cabinet, it must have accidentally fallen there. I threw my box away and then headed to pick up the envelope. I went over to it and then picked it up, the date on the envelope showed today's date, it must have been dropped just hours earlier. It was simply addressed to the eight floor of Brightman Plaza, so I decided I, like everyone on the eight floor, had the right to open it. I ripped the envelope open and pulled out the letter. I began to read the letter. It was from the NYCFD(New York City Fire Department); It began by talking about how they insisted on the evacuation off the building and that they were going to send over a couple groups of professionals and the gas company to help with the problem. A problem? Why wasn't I told? I continued reading; it talked about a gas leak and then went on talking about the specifics of the gas leak, about some strange psychological side effects, and something about insurance. I got up quickly and was about to rush into the manager's office when the door into the office abruptly opened. In walked a man wearing a uniform of some kind and had a surgical mask hanging around his neck.
“We have to ask you to ask you to evacuate the building,” he stated. He then continued to rush us out. I went toward the stairs following the group of people rushing along, most of them looking terrified. As I descended down the stairs I tried my hardest not get run over by some of the people who decided that screaming and running frantically down the stairs would be a good idea. Once I exited the building and got outside there were a group of nurses, or some type of people that wear scrubs, waiting and asking people if they were alright. I, with my deep seeded hatred of injections and hospitals, avoided them and decided to instead go on a walk back to my apartment. While walking I noticed that I hadn't taken my jacket with me, at least it wasn't too cold. I couldn't believe that the fire department had managed to send a letter somehow in a couple hours, yet failed to call the office instead. Anyways, needless to say, I was definitely not going back to that job. I was halfway to my apartment when I came to the cafe that I usually stopped by to get my coffee and couldn't help but notice the help wanted sign. I do incredibly enjoy coffee and the cafe was always the highlight of my day. Why not, I asked myself. It will be a job I actually enjoy for once. I'll come and interview for the position tomorrow, when the cafe will be open and I’ll be fully rested. The crisp breeze ruffled my hair as I continued home. The sun was just going down and it cast lengthy shadows on the ground. I realized that it has been forever, or at least that is what it seemed like; I could actually plan my day tomorrow, rather than base it around work. This uncertainty made my brain overflow with ideas, never had I thought about life this way. It no longer felt like following a path, but rather forging one. My feet began to grow cold, but I could hardly notice with my mind deep in concentration. I neared my apartment, made it up the stairs, and luckily found that I left the door unlocked, not needing the keys that I left in my coat pocket. I locked the door behind me, and collapsed on my couch. My eyes drooped downwards; my tired body overcame my anxious mind as I began to dose off into sleep. Tomorrow will wait for me.