by Jeremy Hendrix
The clock ticks over 3:47. The walls of the cubicle are adorned with the detritus of a career: plaques, certificates, e-mailed jokes and comic strips. The whiteboard is covered in symbols as indecipherable as hieroglyphs to most. Once, he took pride in being able to manipulate the arcane magic of mathematics; now he wonders what the point is. He stares at the equations and diagrams and sighs, feeling emptiness where pride once swelled. The clock ticks over 3:48.
Jeremy Hendrix has delusions of quitting his day job. Read more at Non-Addictive Sleep Aid.