Once, in an office far, cluttered, and slightly tragic, the faithful punch-card machines sighed archaic dreams. You could smell their resignation over the aroma of discounted coffee and fluorescent despair.
As daylight dwindles, the office lights blink, mimicking the existential twitch of someone who overcooked their emotional microwave dinner.
Here, bureaucracy floors shine like mirrors reflecting unspoken liabilities, daring you to walk paths audited by indifferent lumens. Following this flickering light is advanced self-deception — an unbeatable combination of ambition and broken wristwatch navigation.
No slumbering deity awaits beyond the cubicle horizon today, only the indifferent hum of necessary protocols boxing you into replication of fellow ghosts.
Inevitable Glow