An unfinished short story, written and edited in public (last edited 04/26/2022)

tch he pulls his elbow off the corner of his desk, pins and needles felt going down his forearm. he considers his arm for a moment, interested in how pain broke him from his trance.

he leans back in his chair, rubs his eyes and glances at the clock. it reads 5:41. "shit" he mutters under his breath as he hurriedly saves his files and begins to frantically pack his bags. sierra will kill him if he's late again. he's always claimed to be a man of his word, but his lack of punctuality could mount a strong opposition to that claim in court.

he rushes out the door, and into the bustle of the foggy city. horns are honking, people are existing loudly, making their presence known to all others. he looks desperately for an empty taxi coming up the street. he hails one from the other side of the street (he's quite large, and he tends to stick out in crowds) and begins to powerwalk to the cab.

splish "shit!" he looks down and sees that he has stepped on a Peep marshmallow, partially melted in the July heat. he has the urge to stop and clean it off on the curb but he remembers that he is already late, and needs to get into the cab asap.

he hops in the back and tells the driver the address of the restaurant. as the cab takes off, he glances at the news story on the tv screen behind the seat. apparently there was some kind of commotion about inflation in the town square. people were marching with signs, while a group in the middle was holding hands, sitting in a circle, crying.

hes never been much for paying attention to the news, so he instead turns his head to look out of the window. on the street, a woman clutches her purse so tightly, her knuckles blanch. she doesn't look scared, in fact, her expression is quite neutral as she saunters down the street. this upsets him, but he can't exactly explain why.

the cab pulls up to the restaurant, and he puts his card against the screen. the number reads much higher than it should. "uhhh" he takes a cautious glance at the driver. the driver shrugs and says, "inflation". he grinds his teeth. he's always been good at budgeting, and doesn't like surprise charges.

again, he remembers his predicament and decides to set the issue aside for now.

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