The air is thick with infinite spreadsheets and stale metaphors, whispering promises of completion that dissolve like morning mist.
In the corner, a machine hums, processing papers without end, spitting out a countdown of deadlines crossed out by unseen hands.
Between walls of pixelated dreams, the clock ticks erratically, frozen at three minutes to nowhere. The fluorescent lights flicker, revealing shadows that dance, momentarily resembling forgotten tasks.
Here, the office is a labyrinth, and you are the keeper of its glitches – searching for meaning among the voids and the echoes.