Just a Day at The Office

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
A simple story about getting up for a different kind of job...

Submitted: June 09, 2009

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Submitted: June 09, 2009



“Just a Day at the Office”

The dawn’s light leaks through the individual cracks of the ornate blinds hanging in his Manhattan high-rise. As the sun’s rays creep over his eyelids he wearily opens his eyes and surveys his surroundings in a waking daze. The apartment room he calls home can be best described as state of the art. The walls are painted in an exquisite but calmingly neutral ivory white. Directly across from the foot of his queen sized bed hangs a large, black plasma screen television. Underneath, it is accompanied by a glass shelf exhibiting several different media devices while in the left corner of the room resides a cleverly concealed closet space housing his work attire. He blindly extends his arm to the bed’s side table to collect his lighter and Parliament brand cigarettes. Stepping from under the covers he makes his way to the balcony in a sleepy stupor. The sound of the sliding door’s rusty tracks flood the room accompanied by the flick and snap of the Zippo. Staring at the horizon, he contemplates the day ahead. 

With the bitter taste of smoke and nicotine still fresh in his mouth, he steps back into his luxurious apartment methodically laying out the day’s essentials. Black pants and blazer. Check. Cell phone. Check. Briefcase. Check. Something’s missing he figures. He dashes for his closet and inspects his coat pockets. With a sigh of relief he pulls out the black leather wallet he was so desperately searching for just thirty seconds ago. He opens it to confirm the original contents are in their place. The five one hundred dollar bills reside snugly in the opening of the wallet along with his credit cards situated on both ends and his driver’s license positioned firmly in the center. He stares intently at the crux of the wallet into the face looking back from the little window. The name on the license reads Jack Warren. The photo depicts a handsome man with emerald colored eyes, his smooth face shaven clean, and his raven black hair combed back in an orderly fashion. The lighting in the photo does its best to accentuate his broad, masculine jaw line and his sloped, pointed nose. After carefully examining the photo, he lets out a slight smirk and tosses the wallet on the bed. “Time to get ready” he thinks to himself and calmly makes his way to the bathroom. He turns on the shower and saunters inside. Surrounded by the marble walls and intricately shaped showerhead he allows the warm water to wash away any impurities of the night before.

As he steps out of the shower, the water drips to the tile floor leaving a trail of cooling liquid up to the sink where he meticulously brushes his teeth performing each of the necessary motions to ensure their cleanliness. With his daily bathroom ritual coming to an end, he picks up a bottle of hair gel and molds for himself the usual spiked hairstyle he has come to enjoy over the years. With a serene stride, he makes his way to the closet, noticing the clock out of the corner of his eye. “Perfect.” he thinks, realizing he is way ahead of schedule to begin the day’s assignment. After slowly buttoning up his shirt, he reaches for the black pants resting on the bed and slips both legs inside before fastening it with a stylish designer belt. Peering back into his closet, he notices the crimson red tie hanging alongside the rest of his clothing. Figuring that today might be a special occasion, he proceeds to sling it around his neck and begins the chaotic series of loops and knots that brings the entire article together into a tidy package around his neck. Finally, he clutches the black blazer with one finger and hurls it over his shoulder as he grabs his briefcase with his free hand and walks out of the room.

The high tech fridge door swings open, its light illuminating the small surrounding radius and its slight droning filling the air. Grasping the milk in one hand and the box of cereal in the other, he mixes the two to prepare his breakfast. The day’s current events attract his attention as he sits down to enjoy his newly primed meal and read the morning paper, scouring its pages for any useful or entertaining information. After spooning the last of the bowl’s contents into his mouth, he inserts the bowl into the dishwasher and opens his briefcase to confirm that all its components are in their place. Assured, he proceeds to the door. Near its threshold, he spots the trendy black leather loafers he laid out the night before and inserts each foot into its respective shoe and finally departs for work.

Upon arriving to the building, he takes notice of his surroundings. The sun shines and the brisk air fills his nose as the slight breeze rustles the hardened spikes on his head. Looking to the left and to the right, the bustling crowds populate the streets as they scurry from one place to another in a desperate attempt to make an impact in their corporate universe. Staring straight ahead, he takes notice of the seemingly all glass building, and strange enough it seems to stare right back at him. As the sun’s gleaming rays shine on its windows, the menacing giant’s glare gives off a cobalt sheen. “Well, no time like the present” he quietly utters as he makes his way up the steps into the mouth of the beast. Ascending the stairs, he looks at his watch and notices that he is actually ahead of schedule. Seemingly taking no interest in any particular floor, he continues on until he reaches the rooftop. Once again, surveying his surroundings he notices the increased velocity of the wind strike his face and transform his tie into sinuous scarlet. As he lights up another cigarette, he positions himself at a corner of the building, takes a seat and relaxes while he looks out onto the skyline and the surrounding streets. Approximately five minutes pass and the cigarette has nearly reached its end. Taking one last pull he looks over the edge of the building and tosses the spent butt into the wind while at the same time taking notice of what looks to be a well armed convoy escorting a black, tinted limousine. “Interesting” he thinks to himself as he lays his briefcase on the roof’s edge and opens it once more. To further assure himself that everything he needs for work is inside, he quickly assembles its components and positions it towards the approaching limousine. Staring at his new assembly, he admires its form, its capabilities, and its power to pass judgment on all its sees. What he is gazing at is, in his eyes, a machine of sheer delight. Peering into this menacing metallic monster’s newly assembled scope, he flips open the cap revealing its infrared lens. Crouching on one knee, he lays his jacket neatly over the top of the scope to shield himself from the sun’s tendency to reveal his position. Knowing the swiftness involved in his task, he carefully aligns the sights just through the sunroof onto the backseat passenger’s heart. “I can see it now…” he thinks to himself. “Tomorrow’s headlines will read, ’Senator Jack Warren’s Life Seized From Above!’” Taking a deep breath as his mouth forms a devious smirk, he whispers, “Just another day at the office.”

© Copyright 2019 Locke. All rights reserved.

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