Six Sections to the Door
the lights only come on when something moves. one just came on by the elevators. i haven't moved.
This one goes to a heavy place. If you’d rather not read it tonight, that’s a fine choice — support resources are here.
everyone left by seven. i stayed for the thing that's due, the thing that's always due, and the lights on this floor do this trick when it empties out. they go off section by section after you stop moving, and they come back on when something moves. so for hours it's just been my little island of light and the rest of the floor dark. i like it, mostly. it's the only quiet i get.
about twenty minutes ago a section came on by itself. way over by the elevators. i told myself it's the cleaning crew, except they come thursdays and it's tuesday. then another one, closer, the row by the printers. then the conference room. i've been sitting very still, which is the dumb part, because the lights only know movement, so if i don't move the dark comes back to me. i keep my hands on the keyboard and i don't type.
i've counted the sections between me and the elevators a hundred times in two years. there are six. i'm not counting how many are dark anymore. i'm counting how many are still lit between me and the door.
Did this one stay with you?
Keep reading
More like this
Stories in the same key
Picked for the feeling they share with the one you just read.
I Kept the Screenshots Anyway
At his goodbye drinks, I raise a glass to the coworker I trained for the job I wanted, and think about the folder I still haven't deleted.
Waving to Keep the Lights On
Last one on the floor, drafting the same resignation I never send. Some nights the office quits before you do.
The Cart With the Bad Wheel
Three nights running I'm the last one out. Tonight the only other person in the building, the cleaner I've never spoken to, stopped her cart at my desk.