That window is oppressive. I have been unable to concentrate on work since the sudden and inexplicable appearance of a window near the office door. Now, the sunlight has become so brutal, I can’t see my monitor without covering my eyes.
What’s worse, no one else seems bothered by it. E—, who actually sits directly adjacent to it, appears to work with no issue. I asked him about it this morning:
“Hey, E—,” I said.
He jerked his earbuds. “Heh?” he said.
“Kinda bright in here, isn’t it?”
“Oh, you mean the window?”
“Barely notice it. I think maintenance put it in last week. It’s nice having a desk with a view, eh?”
“I guess. But it’s so bright.”
“It’s sunny, sure, but it beats the heck out of these damn fluorescents.”
It’s almost noon, and the light has become so oppressive, I can’t see anything without wearing the $10 eclipse sunglasses I bought for sungazing last week. The frame itself has begun to vibrate, and a low hum has started radiating from it.
It’s starting to give me a headache. If something doesn’t let up soon, I’m going to have to take a half day.
Like what you read? There’s more.
“Morning coffee” is a serial fiction series, served fresh daily. So far, we’ve covered rubberneckers, co-workers, cubicle stains, office plants, desk trophies, conspiracies, secret organizations, pocket dimensions, black holes, and impending, inevitable doom. And that’s just the beginning.
Where should we go next? Let me know in the comment section below.