On the way to the office | Teen Ink

On the way to the office

March 29, 2018
By AtomicOblivion SILVER, Madison, Georgia
AtomicOblivion SILVER, Madison, Georgia
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The subway. Not the sandwich bar, but the crowded transit. A sea of humanity crawls into each train  in a surprisingly civilized manner, like cows off to slaughter. They wear dark suits that look like voids. Sadly, my body doesn’t make it into the sea. I had to live another eternity, waiting 20 minutes. Why don’t you just take a car, wouldn’t that be easier? My brother, before he could shake the hand of success was greeted by Death. He was just driving to the store for some milk. Skrrrrt. As the train door opened a memory closed.


I could never really strike up a conversation with anyone.  Strike one, strike two, strike three, why do I even bother. The men beside me could strike up  conversations just fine, but they talked to other men. How, in this school of human beings, has no one ever tried to strike up a conversation with me. It brings me back to a time when my friends’ moms drove them to school while I took the bus. And kids played catch with their dads, while I was left with a vague memory and a folded flag. Flags can’t play catch.  Errt… plshh. The train doors open, like that of a bus, then Plshh vrrm, The train has swept another memory away.


I joined into the sheeple who go on with their lives as if they have lost nothing. I saw a sports car go by, and the low balance in my bank account runs me over. If only I chose a better career. They won’t have to worry about student loans like I have too. Even though I am 30 years old, I am still paying those loans for a worthless degree in finance.


As I entered the glass skyscraper my cigarette glowed with an orange flame. The nicotine invaded my system and I thought, Why not end it all in this prison they call a job? By the time I made it to my office there was not much cigarette left, but still a spark to turn the building into ash. Glimpsing at the trashcan I thought, the perfect kindling. THUD! Frank tossed a box on my desk.


“Pack up, you’re being promoted, and put that cigarette down. You can’t smoke in here.”



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