The fragile space of uncertainty beckons through dreamed skies outside a modern frame window. Margie lives in a world of breathless work, one and all, all in one, feeling adrift and weary as the demands press upon her.
The day plods on as Margie makes her way from the office to the terminal, where she eats breakfast and lunch, which are humdrum and sometimes lost in the electronic stacks of emails and other tasks, as she responds, ignores, and forwards.
The day ends. Margie stops. Fingers resting on the keyboard. Eyes staring ahead, a dull ache settling in, uncertainty and fatigue clouding her expression.
The night shift is arriving. Each arrival walks to each cubicle and wheels the workers on Margie’s shift in their chairs to the wall closet set. Each one pulls the cord from the plate on the floor and plugs in a charger under their left armpit.
Afterward, they close the doors.
That’s it for the night until morning, before Margie begins again.
About the author
Mike Lee's work appears in or is forthcoming in Blood+Honey, Bristol Noir, Roi Faineant, Wallstrait, BULL, Drunk Monkeys, and many others. Also is in the latest CafeLit anthology
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