by Samuel Cole
paul jackson was sure that he was a fighter. however, he could never find a fight in the sea of cubicles that he worked in. sometimes he would peek his head over a divider, and ask his particularly maternal neighbor if she had seen anybody that was "looking for a fight." she would always say "no." paul jackson would say "oh," and turn back to the glow of his monitor. he would press a few keys, and open a spreadsheet (or, sometimes, a word document).
Samuel Cole's medium is the web. You might like his micro fiction on Twitter. He loves you.