She called in sick again to work. Trying to remember exactly what it was that she did, she was overcome by a feeling of nausea. All that she could remember is that she sat in a cubicle, and was mildly annoyed all day. She could no longer be part of the rat race. She couldn’t pretend to care about sales goals, performance measures and points. She sat for an unknown amount of time and tried to reason with herself. It was as if a huge brick wall stood in front of her. She could not, would not, go any further. It was either escape, or death by cubicle. She would escape.
DreamAllAfternoon why am I too weak to do anything?
I love this.
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