Control - JeromeR.Vandamme

I sink, my eyes glazing over. The stacks of paper sit stagnant on my desk. I'll attend to them tonight, I think, adding, Christ.

The hot Greek air is becoming unbearable. My fan doesn't work. I've a dull ache in my stomach. I smell strongly of tobacco, sweat and coffee.

My pay is six months overdue. In three weeks I'll be on the streets; I can't pay the rent. I'm weak and slow. I see him blaming it all on 'the recession' as he drives his Ferrari past me.

What is another worker to the boss, if he won't work?

The End

314 comments about this exercise Feed