Hordes of stacked, crinkled papers, some with misshapen blotches of beige coffee stains are strewn across my cramped, square mahogany office desk, giving me an unexpected bout of claustrophobia.
With the grimy, teetering ceiling fan that groans of old age and moans with its every perilous rotation, the papers on my desk quiver, waving and prodding at me seeking to receive the little volume of attention left in me that continues to sap its way out of me.
Amongst the many papers, I attempt to meticulously discern and comprehend the infinitesimal figures and letters through the misty, hazy layer of months of clingy sweat and tears embracing my spectacles every inch as letters begin encompassing my vision.
With employees scooting hastily past my desk every second, the few light beams that bathe my desk and its contents in a heavenly halo vanish merrily every second and then reappear, almost as if playing peekaboo with me.
One second, my world is cast under eternal shadow and darkness, imposed upon me by the devilish entities of misery and stress whose slender, thin fingers have a tight grasp upon my life.
The next second, my world is cast under everlasting light, where misery and stress do not hail as the angelic being of positivity embraces me in its tender, motherly arms, murmuring words of courage and promising to not let go.
