(Office Dillingham Boulevard)
I wouldn’t have a problem with getting my work done in this cubicle were it not for the problematic popping sound of bubble wrap. The snapping pop went off every five seconds; it didn’t bother me at first and I payed it no mind. Except that now, the maddening cadence is taking it’s time. It knows that I have anticipated the noise which is why it pops two or three at once and then nothing for a few seconds and then one pop after. I know very well that I am the only person in my office and that the several sheets of bubble wrap lay on my work mates desk behind me. He called in sick for the day. I force myself not to acknowledge the activity because if I do, If l let myself believe that this is real, then whatever it is that is trying to scare me will win, and it will either possess my body or kill me.
My report is finished which is a good thing, the bad thing is that I have to print it up. The printer is on the desk behind me, where the bubble wrap is. I am too afraid at this point to get up from my chair; instead I turn my computer screen off and in it’s reflection I try to determine the distance of the printer in relation to where I’m sitting. It’s not that far, I turn the screen back on and click the print icon. The machine starts up and I hear it spit out the papers I need, I take in a deep breath and push my chair backwards toward the printer, I reach my left hand out and I grab the sheet as quickly as possible.
Success!
It did it without having to turn around once! I push my chair forward to my safe haven and hold up my prized report to gaze at it like a trophy; instead my blood runs cold and I am mortified. It isn’t my report in my hands. It’s a sheet of bubble wrap.
From behind me it starts again, pop, pop, pop. There’s a pause afterwards and then I hear it,
“Heh, heh, heh”
It wasn't until I ran into the parking lot that I realized the high pitch noise that I'd heard was me. I couldn't t stop screaming.
No comments:
Post a Comment