Outside of my office window, the street lamp flickered on. An orange glow of a conventional bulb emitted a circular shape of light on the asphalt below the overhanging light. The circle was a perfect shape. The details of the conglomerate of tiny rocks were lit up in the empty parking spaces next to the building. I wonder how long it took the construction crew to pave this massive parking lot. Millions upon millions of tiny rocks lay flat and bound together with the black substance. Slowly, through all of the elements, each exposed pebble wears away. Layer by layer.
I read the analog clock hanging above the storage desk in the corner of my small office. 7:15 p.m. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go home yet. The building was quiet during the day, but I could usually hear voices coming out of other offices at random intervals. Now that I was aware of the time, I realized it was especially quiet at night. There was no distant chatter. No closing of doors or people walking by. The only thing left to do was to get up from this unimpressively cushioned office chair, but if I moved, that meant I would eventually arrive at the front door of my house. I felt paralyzed by the future feeling of loneliness. This was a distinct and familiar feeling that set in at the end of the day. It’s like an invisible time stamp, once passed, that brings me to the place that I am increasingly reluctant to visit. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“Just get up and go home”, I said in a quiet, irritated tone.
I pushed myself away from my desk a short distance, slowed by the carpet beneath the wheel of my chair. In quick succession, I shut the laptop, put it in my bag, grabbed my keys, turned off the lamp, flipped the light switch off, and closed the door. With a click, the heavy door closed.
The hallway was dimly lit by the fluorescent glow of the overhead bulbs, in long intervals, which gave it an eerie feeling. That, paired with the silence, made it difficult to take a step forward. So, for a few moments, I stared at the long walk that was before me. I’ve walked this path numerous times in the seven years that I’ve inhabited this area of the building, but this potential walk is filled with a sense of dread.
Reluctantly, step by step, I moved my body down the long hallway, the overhead lights acting as street lamps to light the road home.
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