By his third year, "office.txt" was over five hundred pages long. He had mapped out the complex social hierarchies of the breakroom. He had written a three-page character study on Mrs. Gable’s collection of ceramic desk frogs. He had even penned a dramatic, noir-style internal monologue about the day the coffee machine ran out of French Roast. Then, Tuesday happened.
The interruption during the file transfer had corrupted the data. His three-year epic, his secret history of the yellow walls and ceramic frogs, was lost to the void.
Entry: October 19. The humming noise from the ventilation grate in the corner has shifted from a B-flat to a C-sharp. This indicates either a failing belt or the building itself is slowly gaining consciousness.
