The muddled blacks of the office room drowned me. I couldn’t bear to listen to another speech droning out of the mouth of some executive. Caught of guard, everyone in the room levies their attention at me.

From my daze, I realize they expect something from me.

I try to recall what they asked, twiddling my pen in my left hand, then I sift through my mind. It’s no use. Every moment here blends together like paint, lifeless and grey paint. The paint that is ordinary and plane, the paint that is just like this room. Yes, like every office space in this whole entire massive, corporate business, the tedious paint is everywhere.

I flick the edges of my crumple pages of data I did not bother to read. Back and forth to jog my mind. Swirling the paper into a roll I finally speak, “I uhh…”

I only fill the air with needless company. I slide the paper away from me. It feels like tingles of a razor as I stand.

“I’m sorry,” I say formulating an excuse in my head. “I think I left the oven on.”

Finally, I had made up my mind; I should have done it years ago. I walk out and never look back.

Those sleepless night crunching statistics, the kid-pool-shallow coworkers, the unbearable bosses, those boring six sided rooms, and the horrendous goop in the coffee machine, it will never haunt me again. I quit.