After everyone had left the office tonight, the whole place began to glow amber.
In the cubicle space, there were particles of dust and fiber swirling around
the room. Nobody was there to stir them; they apparently just moved. Out of
the window, the sun was bright red-orange, like a crayola color; maybe even
scribbled slightly out of the lines. I still remember the day that I discovered
that pollutants were to thank for those magnificent red sunsets. It was prettier
when it was magic; it's still pretty today. When I went outside, the air was
cool. I think fall is coming and I think the rain has stopped.
This is absurd; I'm going to bed. People will be heartbroken, their lives changed forever, when that email fails to arrive tomorrow. Can I bear that burden?
"This is not a life; this is just stuff!" Oh, American Beauty is on HBO.