wall-less cubicle adrift

Let me tell you about my job. My desk floats on an island of paper. I sit at my computer and type up missives, emails, manifestos, notes to be sent by carrier pigeon. The island of paper grows each day. My boss comes, huffing with the weight, and drops stacks of white papers into my inbox. They pour over the sides and the volcano of pulp erupts onto the floor. I am falling behind in my filing. My other boss comes, huffing with another stack. "I need these photocopied," she says. I don't look up. I say "I'm in the middle of a manifesto. Can it wait?" She says, "How's the filing coming?" "Great," I say. She grins thinly and walks away. I resent having to do work at my job. www.adamszymkowicz.com