What follows comes from here; it is a story, a simple story …
That’s his desk, so neat and clean, a perfect example of the ‘clean desk’ policy he demands of his staff. But on his screen? Well, that’s his escape. He thinks.
Every day I come here and clean under his desk, under his chair. It’s my second job, because with what he pays me, I can’t afford to live in the cruddiest apartments across the way from his window. My apartment doesn’t have a window. It doesn’t have a balcony. It’s one room. It’s all I can afford.
The dream he has of a dark forest, running streams, fresh air – it will never happen. I know why, too. I know his secret. I know what keeps him tied to this spot, to this desk, to this dream.
What do I want to do about it? I could blackmail him, get more money, become as bad as he is … or I could keep up with my plan. Live in my dumpy, dark apartment where it costs extra just to use the lift; I save every cent, so frugal I own one pair of pyjamas, two t-shirts, one pair of jeans and one pair of shorts, five undies (weekends are commando – saves undies!). Oh, and for working here? I have two sets of work pants (pre-loved, but good quality) and three shirts – all the same colour. It’s the uniform I have for this place. It’s my camo.
And for the cleaning? Shorts and singlet. And then I use his personal bathroom to shower and clean up, wash my gear, brush my teeth – why should I pay extra at my place for the water to clean off his dirt?
And in three years, eight months and four days and a few hours, I’ll have enough money to fly so far beyond the view from that window that not even the fake dream on his screen will see …
the pic? It’s from Austin Poon at Unsplash.com.
Oh, and I was supposed to add another pic and pester … erm … nominate three others. Well the pic is now there (late, of course – I am a writer!), but if you want to nominate yourself, make my day!