Waiting to Exhale

It's like we're on two different ships, drifting further and further apart. I wave goodbye. The other ships puffs gamely on, out of sight, ignoring me. I shed a furtive tear. Endings are always painful. I think we even grieve the loss of our tumours.

And today I am in here because of a misunderstanding. I didn't understand a request for meeting. It was supposed to be next Friday. I thought it was this Friday. Which is why, bright and early on a Friday morning I was seated at my desk. To find a very interesting letter.

Intrigue, intrigue, intrigue and more intrigue...

And the people revolve around me, as if in some alternate dimension, and I watch them and don't watch them, and don't appear to be watching them and check my email, and check my Facebook, and check my email, and check his blog where people have written in gushing about his latest speech.

I sigh.

I turn away.

And a colleague plunks himself down next to me and tells me he needs two press releases. This is a very novel way to be told that we need two press releases. It's usually the boss who tells me and then we thrash them out in no time at all. Speedy Gonzales, that's me.

This colleague says with a wicked chuckle: "I heard you went to Marriott yesterday."

He thinks it's a great joke. I don't.

Another colleague stops by my place. Forehead furrowed in concern.

"How are you?"

"OK," I shrug.

A chat with yet another colleague. Pretty enlightening. Who knew that a little office, barely a year old, would be so chockful of politics?

As he talked, I felt myself move further and further away from this place, this space, this air...exhaling.

Always exhaling.

I need to get this out of my system.