It will be another long day at work, but it is eerily quiet. The moments of reflection lying in my bed last night have toppled over into the early day's work at the office. The list of items to complete is filling up on my desk, in the notebook, and I have nowhere else to go but stay here with this work. I have found happiness - it is the mundane of this silent moment, whir of the air conditioning system ventilating the room, just loud enough to muffle the sounds of keyboard typing from the laptop computers. Everyone else sits in silence, too.
I stop typing just to hear that muffled silence. Weird. As the rain contemplates its contribution to the day (should I pour or drizzle or stay away in mist?), I sit typing away on another random Wednesday.
I stop typing just to hear that muffled silence. Weird. As the rain contemplates its contribution to the day (should I pour or drizzle or stay away in mist?), I sit typing away on another random Wednesday.
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