It’s hard to determine a picture from a single puzzle piece.
Sartre writes that hell is other people. Obviously, he had never been here.
I’ve been living the same day for days now. Maybe weeks. I don’t know.
I have doomed us all. It cannot be undone. Again.
I have a routine every morning. Had.
There are men in the men’s room.
I can’t drink from the water cooler anymore. There’s something in it.
I’m not a complainer, but I’m the only employee who shows up for work.
Someone’s sending me messages after hours, I think.
I burned Bill today.
I gave Bill a haircut today. Now he’s bigger than ever.
Bill, my desk plant, keeps growing. He won’t stop growing. Dear God, make him stop growing.
It was a snug fit, but I managed to pull myself up from the bottom of the lunch box.
My lunch is gone. I didn’t eat it.
The leaf I pinned to my cubicle wall is growing.