Entry 8b142: The coffee pot, that ancient oracle of the break room, declared a drought today—empty, barren. The only offense left unpunished was the absence of milk, an act of sabotage worthy of espionage.
Entry 8b142: A pencil rolled off my desk today, a metaphorical gesture, perhaps. I suspect it may denote metaphorical drought akin to the coffee pot. Or maybe it's just physics. The universe speaks in strange ways.
Read more about desk physicsEntry 8b142: Someone whispered “file it under conspiracy” as they handed me a stapler with an oddly comfortable grip. I began to question the alignment of the office supplies and their hidden agendas.
Stapler or Sphinx?