Lost At The Start

He set his half-full mug of coffee on the sill without seeing the amazing view.

He stood up, took his raincoat from a hook and opened his office door, walked wordlessly past his secretary and the rows of desks.

He went into the hallway and pressed the elevator button, heard the rush of the car in the shaft hurtling up the twenty-two floors of the Transamerica building where he had worked for fifteen years, worked his way from the copy room all the way into the corner office he’d just left for what turned out to be the last time. 

Friday Fictioneers

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