At around one o'clock Johnny had moved out of his office that he shared with another colleague, and into the printing room. He was putting together a final report that also included ideas of his own for changes to the current department. As well as this, it also included changes to the system settings found on the standard computers that were available to the public. It was normally a quiet room.
While attempting to remove a wedge of paper from the printer, Johnny realised that the whole document was jammed in the machine. At least twenty sheets wasted.
With a curse, Johnny bent over the printer and attempted to remove the scrapped paper. With a strong grip, Johnny pulled back hard on the paper, tearing it away.
The paper was flung in waves across the room as it finally came loose. The friction burn warmed Johnny's hand and with a sigh he looked down.
There was a jagged cut in his palm, deep and bleeding. With a yell Johnny smashed his fist into the side of the printer, leaving a furious dent.
The day got worse for Johnny. Of all the previous events of the morning, the next felt like an unprovoked attack that made his blood crawl inside, and his stomach turn.
Again, it happened while Johnny was in the car. On returning home, he was more relaxed, trying to wipe the blotches of concern from his mind that were slowly racking up. Neither the sight of the broken car, nor his bleeding hand was anything compared to what was waiting for him outside the flat. The metaphoric monster for a day of harsh realities.