And then it all went down to this. The stale fragrance of the rain. The nothingness of the moment. And me.
I, Vicentia, sit alone in an empty office. I had my lurk around from the familiar corners of the room that I don’t even care about. To the right-hand corner sits the door and from there to the wall in front of me, a wide desk. It functions as a table and a shelf basically anything we might bother to leave there every now and then. Over this spot, a wide shelf carrying books in coordinated in colors. Another separate shelf sits by the left-hand corner of the room. Behind me, as I sit here on the centerpoint of the room, more desks, more office chairs. They are as empty as the room.
The aircon disintegrates the quiet of the room. It sounds static and repetitive and boring. It is the kind of sound that makes you feel sad.
“It’s time,” said the other man whom I thought wasn’t in the room. As he said that this, one of my bosses stepped in and grabbed his mob of mugs on the reception desk to the right side of the room.
‘Oh, is it.’ I thought. I didn’t bother thinking about what’s next or what’s to come at this time. I didn’t notice much that the man in the room was singing. At this point, the singing went a little louder than the usual.
The buzzing aircon sound reemerged from the nowhere in my mind. Blocking the noise seemed too difficult now.
I don’t exactly know what comes next after this scene but I am pretty sure this is not going to end well. Who knows. ‘Only-who-knows’ knows.