“Where are they?” I grumble to myself? I am getting more and more frustrated the more I look. I have searched the table by the front door, the shelf in the living room, even the couch. My house in a mess and I am still not closer to finding them. Why can’t I leave them in the same place every time I get home? I scold myself. The couch cushions are littered across the floor. The contents of the book shelf are strewn on top. It is 6:30 in the morning and I am going to be late. They are not here. I know they are not. I have looked everywhere. At least I think I have.
“The car! Maybe they are in the car!” Triumphantly I grab my car keys and rush out the door. I press the unlock button and swing open the door. I reach my hand into the crease of the seat. Nothing. I try the side of the seats…both of them. Nothing. “This is infuriating!” If anyone was around to hear me speak I am certain my words would be unintelligible. Oh well. I check the back seat, maybe they fell behind my seat. Nope, wrong again. Maybe by some obscure miracle they are in the trunk. I slam the door to my car and yank open the hatch. Blankets, books, and papers adorn the back of my car. Of course this is disorganized too. I curse myself for this disheveled state. Why, why, why? I throw things here and there. I am barely looking, but the chance of them actually being in the back of my car is minimal.
I glance down at my watch. Another five minutes wasted. Hanging my head in shame, I accept defeat. If I am late I will lose my job. I am going to lose my job anyway. I might as well face the music.
I lift the hand to the door and slide into my car. I’m not as hurried as I was before. I’m not in a hurry to die. Okay maybe death is a little extreme…I hope it’s a little extreme.
Traffic isn’t horrible so I manage to get to work with a little time to spare.
“My office!” I hold onto the last thread of hope that I might have.
In minute the papers, pens, paper clips and other office paraphernalia are all over my floor. I am going to regret this later whatever the outcome. But I just keep telling myself: if there is any hope of saving my job, it’s worth any repercussions that might ensue. I pull out the last drawer and quickly flip it upside down. Files fill the room. As they float to the floor, I hear a silent, almost inaudible ping as they hit the floor. I release the drawer from my hand and my knees hit the floor. The mess clouds my vision and I am reduced to the limitation of just my sense of touch. Frantically, my hands glide across the floor.
“Hazzah!” I say. Oh I hope no one heard that.
In moments, I am on my feet and rushing out of my office. I race down the hallway to the elevator. The doors are closing, but I manage to squeeze through to safety. The time ticks by as I am slowly whisked to the bottom floor.
“Ten, nine, eight...”
“Seriously?” I sigh. Things are so much more difficult when haunted by an audible reminder of an impending doom.
I hesitate only for a moment and urgently find the slot. In it I place my recovered key and turn it anxiously.
“Launch sequence, aborted,” the voice congratulates me. I just hope I get to keep my job.
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