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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wrote this on my last day of an intern job as a junior accountant. Needed to release some creativity.

Submitted: May 21, 2015

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Submitted: May 21, 2015




When you're waiting for someone what do you think about?

Me? My mind goes everywhere. I start thinking about conversations I had or going to have with a person, about dreams I may or may not have had, about clothes and pets and books. But mostly about dreams I would like to write down. Like my funny zombie dreams. Or the one with the snake. Sometimes I think about the romantic ones. Always with danger and always with a different partner. It's fun to dream. To let my imagination run wild. Sometimes I just wish I could dream forever. But in a way I do. Even now when I'm writing this, I'm dreaming about doing something else. Making plans for a future that will never be. Remembering a past that never happened. If only..


My waking call. Vaguely remembering why I am here, why I am waiting. Something to do with work. I receive some papers and a hand waves toward my desktop. "Enter those in. You know how to work with that, right?" I nod, not really listening. I place the papers in front of me on my desk. Move my mouse and start working. All those numbers. They start swirling around inside my head and I find myself thinking about past lives. Dang. Maybe I'm not in the right line of work. I can't even pay attention for 5 minutes. Maybe it's just because I'm sick. I'm tired and have a soar throat. I've been holding my breath in order not to cough. No wonder I can't concentrate. There's too much going on.

Annoying noise.

Printer is out off paper. I see someone rushing past, heavily sighing. Better work some more. But why? I'm an intern. It's not like I get paid, or even have a job perspective here. But still. I have my pride. I'm not lazy. It's my last day anyway. Better leave a good impression. Don't really want to.


No time to get childish. Just work. I punch in some more numbers. Mind's only half there. Just enough to keep me from making mistakes. Steadily the stack of paper decreases. Almost there, but at the same time not even close. No matter how fast I work, I can still only leave in two and a half hours. I slow down a little.


Now what? Ask for more work? Still two hours left. No. I don't want to anymore. I've already done more than normal and I'm tired of this. I want to go home. I want to sit on a bus, staring out the window. Music in my ears. Wait, no. The battery died a while ago. So no music. Still, I've got something to read, something to write and my concentration problems. I'll be fine as long as I don't have to do anything else but sit and stare. Maybe I'll fall asleep. That would be nice.


Suddenly wide awake. Shocked, I turn toward the noise. He's looking at me. Angry. I had dosed off and forgotten to punch some keys in the process. Busted. "If you're done, you can always ask for more work." Can. As if it's an option not to. Have to would fit better. I give him a sad smile. Fine. "Can I have some more work please? I'm done with what you gave me." He turns and walks away. Am I supposed to follow him? Will he come back? I don't know so I just stay put.

Angry huff.

Okay, guess I had to follow. Standing up, I can't help but sigh. It was a small short sigh but apparently he heard. Didn't really think he could give me a nastier look than he already had. I let guilt wash over my face. That works a little. He softens up. "Come". I follow him to his desk. He rummages in some drawers until he draws out an even bigger bundle than the one I just finished. "Here, this should keep you busy for a while." Nasty smile. He nudges with his head towards my desk. "Get started".

One more hour.

I keep checking my clock. Fifty-nine minutes. At least the end is coming closer. Someone else sighs behind me. Guess I'm not the only one looking forward to leaving. Best get some more work done. Don't want to leave here on bad terms.

Ten minutes left.

I'm halfway through the new stack. I check the clock and start smiling. Finally! Done! I start cleaning up the piles of papers and shut down my computer. Pretending to write things down for whomever will do this job after me. I'm really just doodling. I'm starting to feel like a real office worker. Always pretending too work while doing absolute nothing.

Five more minutes.

I stand up and throw the doodles in the trash. Then I head out bathroom. All part of my daily routine. I'm starting to miss this already. As soon as I'm finished washing my hands I go back to my now former desk and pick up the pile of papers. I dump them on his desk with a big smile. He doesn't even notice. Oh well I didn't want to talk anyway.

Time to go.

I grab my bag and jacket and before they can call me back I'm already going down the stairs at top speed. I've never felt this happy about leaving. I didn't hate the job, not really. Anyway now's not the time to think about that. I can see the bus coming and I'm not even halfway there. Luckily it stops to let another car through. I walk a little faster.

Made it!

Never walked this fast in my life but it payed off. I'm sitting at my usual place. In the back but still close to a door. I take out my book and start reading. I don't know how much time passed before I looked out off the window. I tend to loose myself in the story and sometimes miss my stop because of it.

It's raining.

I can hardly see were we are. Oh we're crossing the highway, almost there. I put away my book and look out the window again. Blinding lights growing brighter despite the rain. Glass shattering. Rain in my face. Pain. Darkness.

Tell me. How did you spend your last day?

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