The ephemeral high he felt last night with his fantasy football score is still lingering. There is moisture in the air and the sudden jolt of the bus is not bothering him today. Then he looks around and sees an old lady standing, struggling to keep up with the bus’ manoeuvrability. The humanity inside him which has been on snooze since late wakes up and he parts with the comforts of his window seat. His usual feelings about the jolts are back. But there is a slight pride on the edges of his cheek bones of a good deed done. The old lady gets off two stops later and from nowhere a hunk swoops in to his window seat. He feels angry, betrayed and naturally so since he was the rightful heir for that seat. He even blames the old lady for not giving him a signal before she got up. The anger travels through his head, through the shoulders on to his nails. He presses hard against the overhead iron pipes and scratch the paints making a serendipitous art in the process.
He reaches work and sees the woman of his dreams in the elevator. She is so happy to see him. Well technically not him, the hunk walking beside him. As they get extra cosy in the elevator, his nails are busy making more art, giving some respite to his jealousy. Getting out of the lift, he decides she no longer deserves to be his password.
He passes by the usual congress of peers at the coffee machine who deliberate on everything under the sun. Their animated faces suggest the world order depends on their discussions. He passes them with a smirk suggesting that he is rooting for them while in reality all he is trying is to hide his utter disdain. Before he gets on with his drudgery he checks his email and he feels god is finally trying to make amends. He had a good feeling about that interview few weeks back. Now they have hired him. The job is the same lacklustre one but with a higher pay. Also the location will be in a different building although in the same campus. That means he won’t be running into his password in lifts anymore.
So he gives his notice and though he thought about giving a piece of his mind to his boss he decides against it. Imagining his meltdown in the boss’ cabin gives him a smile and he comes back to reality with a shake of the head. Before leaving in the evening he checks his inbox and sees his new company’s email. His nails feel the urge to scratch something. Anything. There has been an error and they sent the job offer to him by mistake. There was little left of his mouse pad after he finished reading.
He looks over from his window seat and sees an old lady standing, struggling. He offers her his seat and gets back to his unfinished artwork on the railings from this morning.