u/Due_Database_6326

I don't skateboard, but whenever I see someone jumping around with a skateboard, it looks like the board sticks to their feet as they jump up.

To me it's logical THAT it happens, but not WHY it happens.

(These are all seperate observations, not part of one whole)

The yellow flowers gave off a warm, softsweet smell.

He heard repeating, high pitched calls from birds flying overhead. In the background he also heard geese calling out to eachother, and splash in the water, territorially, but almost carelessly. He could just about feel the cold water they were in, splashing onto him.

Yellow flowers spread, as far as the eye could see. They covered hills in the distance, even filling the grooves in between them with tall grown bushes.

The steady wind refeshed his senses, every now and then carrying with it a delightful smell, typical for flowers.

The faint smell of wet sand in the distance reached out to him.

The refreshing, blowing wind made him unaware of the sun slowly burning his skin. Such a pleasent feeling.

A white butterfly flew in between his legs, unaware of his presence and fiercely battling the wind

The grass was filled with scattered spurts of tall grass.

A lone, tiny bird was calling out from the top of a tree, carefully hidden in between the leaves.

An organically shifting flock of birds flew over his head.

The yellow flowers were so bright, that he couldnt help but feel they didnt belong in this world.

The whitest clouds, intervoven in an intricate pattern, slowly floated over his head.

He felt the soft wind stroke the inner side of his arms.

In the bright sun, reed turned to its most beatiful color. The wind stroked it silently, and made the reed move as if it were transforming into a snake, or as if an invisible hand was lovingly caressing it. It made a rustling sound as the reeds danced with eachother.

Hey, I'm so high up. I can see the tops of clouds. I barely see the people. Their cars. Their lifes. They could never touch me.

Hey, this is fun. They look at me now. I can show them my rage, my might. My figure destroys all within its touch. I am a raging tornado. Rage in my destruction.

Hey, now this is weird. They rage but can't do much. They yell at me to stop. But why do they wish to stop. A man who doesn't do much?

Hey, now don't give up. Rebuild what I have broken. Some houses and some lives. Build it stronger. Interwoven. No matter. It's not much.

Hey, what are you doing? I'll trample you with my feet. I don't care about some filth. Underneath my shoes. You are tiny. I am a raging tornado.

Hey, why do you cry? I did nothing. Of importance. At all. Families come back. But only ones I want.

Hey, I see the clouds. I tell them rain upon it. Rain upon the earth. Clouds obey. For I am a raging tornado.

Hey, what can I do? Can I tell the sea. To wash upon the shore. Like never before? For me, it grows out teeth. It obeys. The rage within.

Hey, I see lightning. It strikes the space I point. The earth too. It obeys. And shakes. I was made for this. I was made a tornado.

Hey, this was fun. But I see. The rage dwindling within me. Let me call the clouds. The sea. The earth. Obey me one last time. Rage upon the world.

Hey, my form is leaving me. The sun shines and I see. The people I left to be. They all stare at me. "What a crowd, what a turnout." I whisper, and I flee.

Hey, the sun is talking. I killed people. I ruined lifes. I damaged all I could. The sun told me. But can it blame me. Was I not made for this? I was made a tornado.

Hey, it called to me. It called me by my name. It told me that a tornado. Could also live at sea. So destruction needn't be.

(Feedback is always appreciated)

(I fot a bit carried away with the short story. You don't have to read all of it if you want to give feedback)

"Someone robbed a store?" A man was walking in a park, on the phone. He was wearing a bright orange vest, reflecting the sunlight onto the grass nearby. His hat was yellow and his pants were blue. As he walked, people turned to look at him. He avoided their eye contact as much as possible. He felt as if he were walking around naked. These clothes were ridiculous. But that was the whole point. "Held him at gunpoint... mhm." He wondered what the people walking by were thinking. "Herbs? Why?" The man now looked up ahead, at a group of people. Half of them were dressed as ridiculous as him. "Call me again when you catch him, I can help you with the interrogation." He approached the group of people as they laughed and waved at him. "Not right now. I'm going to a bachelor party, dressed like an idiot. See you later." He hung up.

"Dylan!"

"Hey, Dylan!"

"Looking good, mate!"

Multiple people called out to him as he joined the group. People shook hands, and some were so daring as to give him a hug.

"Where is the psychopath who thought this was a good idea?" Dylan looked around and then spotted him. "Henry, you look horrible as always!"

"Look who's talking." Henry responded. He was dressed worse than anyone else. His colorful demeanor was like a rainbow in the winter.

"Going to a club dressed like this, what were you thinking?" Dylan couldn't help but laugh as he said it.

"I thought it was pretty funny. The married men dress as clowns to give the single men a chance. C'mon, it'll build confidence."

"Oh am I the one in need of confidence, Henry?" Dylan smiled knowing what he was about to say. "You were too scared to ask her to marry you, so she had to do it for you!" People laughed, and Dylan and Henry glanced at eachother playfully.

"Let's go gentlemen!" Henry said as if he were assembling the avengers. "We have a club to terrorize!"

_

Little less than a week later, Dylan was driving home. He had just gone to the wedding of Henry and his wife Mia. As he was nearing his home, he got a phone call.

"Yes?" Dylan asked.

"Dylan, we just caught the thief we were talking about last week."

"The one who stole some herbs?"

"Yes, that one. We need your help to interrogate him."

"Just a minute, I'm almost home. I'll be there in... 10 minutes."

"Thank you, cya then."

"Bye." He hung up, and not much later arrived at his home. As he came in, he saw his wife Sarah busy in the kitchen.

"You're just in time. How was the wedding?"

"It was a nice wedding. Henry seemd very happy. Too bad you couldn't be there, you would've enjoyed it. A lot of people wondered where you went."

"Did they wonder where I was, or did you just insist on explaining?" She smiled. She knew him too well. "Confidence is an important skill, especially with being a police officer and all."

"Right," Dylan had almost forgotten about the interrogation. "I actually have to leave again. Some stuff they need me for at the station." His wife sighed.

"They need you? This late in the evening?"

"Yeah, pretty important stuff. I'll quickly get my stuff and leave, sorry." He gave her a kiss as he walked by, and went up the stairs

"Don't apologize to me when you don't need to, remember?" He heard her as he reached the top of the stairs. He wanted to say sorry again, but realised this was not a good idea.

"I love you honey." He walked into his room and got ready to leave.

"He's in here?" Dylan asked, walking up on a door.

"Yeah," said a man standing outside the door. "Before you go in, lemme tell you 'bout some details." The man put his hand on the door handle. "We don't know exactly what herbs he stole, but it wasn't much. And when he was arrested, he was very compliant, so I expect it won't be much trouble getting answers outta him." Dylan nodded.

"We'll see." The man now opened the door. "Hey," Dylan put on a smile. "My name is Dylan. I didn't actually get your name." The man inside, sitting at a table, looked up at him. Dylan heard the door shut behind him.

"I'm Benjamin. Just call me Ben." His voice was monotonous, but also calm.

"Alright Ben, I just have a few questions, could you answer them for me? If there's something we don't know about, it might help your case if you tell us."

"Sure." Ben's compliance felt weird, but Dylan moved on.

"What kind of herbs did you take?"

"I dunno. I just took the ones she told me to. No idea what kind of herbs they were." Dylan raised his eyebrows.

"She? Who do you mean?" Ben looked up and started thinking.

"I think she had long blonde hair, red lips... and a birth mark on her cheeck."

"You think?"

"Yeah, I had a lot to drink. You see, we met at a club somewhere in town."

"You met her there?"

"Mhm."

"What were you doing before that?" Ben suddenly looked flustered.

"Uhh. I dunno."

"Can't remember?"

"Nope." Dylan paused and looked at Ben. Was he hiding something? Maybe. But he wasn't going to tell him if he were.

"Alright then. Could you tell me about the birth mark?" Ben's calmness had returned.

"Sure. I believe it was diamond-shaped... or maybe it was a square. I dunno." Dylan thought for a moment. He knew someone who looked like that, but he tried not to conjure up an image of her head.

"And Ben, why did you comply with her request? Did she pay you? Did she promise you something?"

"She said she would pay me eventually. But I never saw any money." Dylan thought for a moment.

"Alright. Then, did-" he was abruptly interrupted by the man standing outside, opening the door.

"Dylan, get outside right now." Dylan could see sweat on the man's face. He wanted to continue interrogating, but knew that something more important was going on.

"I'm sorry about this," He told Ben. "But I have to go." He went outside and closed the door. "What is it?" He asked.

"Yaknow Henry, right? You were with him today?" Dylan was flustered by his question.

"Well yes, but why do you ask?"

"He was found dead. A few minutes ago." Dylan froze.

"His wife called us, and there are people on the way. I was told to inform you of this." Silence fell.

"H-how?" Dylan mumbled. His eyes were pointed at the man, but he wasn't looking at him.

"There are no signs of a struggle- or so his wife said, in which case... maybe poison?" Dylan's eyebrows furrowed. He mumbled something. "What was that?" Asked the man.

"I need to go there." Dylan said. "I need to go there!" He was nearly screaming. "Where is it?!"

"Just at his house." The man answered, almost like a reflex. Dylan stormed down the hallway, quickly took a car key from the secretary, flung the door open and ran to a police car. Hastily, he drove away. The sirens cried loudly. He didn't need a map. He knew exactly where to go.

On the way, he thought back to his bachelor party. Then of the phone call he had, and then of the interrogation. The man had stolen herbs, could it be? Maybe, but first he had to visit Henry. After that, he could to find the killer. He had to.

_

Henry was dead. He saw it. With his own eyes. Lying there on the floor. His eyes were wide open. As if he was looking at some sort of ghost. Or a monster. Dylan's eyes began to water. And his hands began to shake.

"I can't look at this right now." He turned away as he spoke.

"You know the man?" Asked another police officer. He had a hat. "I'm sorry for your loss." The officer didn't need an answer.

"Where's Mia?" Asked Dylan, still looking away. He had wiped off his tears, but now his eyes were red.

"His wife?" Dylan nodded. "She's over there, in the living room. They're asking her some questions." Dylan hurried to the living room. Indeed, there she was. As soon as she saw him, she stood up and ran at him. Her eyes were watery as well.

"Dylan!" She cried loudly. The officers that had stood around her all turned towards him.

"Mia! Are you okay? What happened?" She hid her eyes on his shoulder and sobbed. "Are you okay?" Dylan gently rubbed her back with his hands. "Mia?" She slowly backed off and looked at him.

"He's dead." She said. "Suddenly, I- I- There was nothing-" she started crying again.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay Mia." Dylan kept repeating himself. For once, he didn't know what to say. But he had to speak anyways. "Please, Mia. Tell me exactly what happened. I need to catch the person who did this." Mia stopped crying. "Please."

"I don't know what happened." She said. Her voice was a little shaky. When I came back he was just on the ground. Dead." She fell silent. Then started talking again. "I tried to wake him up, but he wouldn't."

"Alright Mia, that's okay. Did he drink or eat something you didn't? Anything?" Mia's tears slowly rolled down her face, but she didn't wipe them off.

"Why must you ask all these questions? Can I please..." She didn't finish her sentence. Instead, she looked towards the ground again.

"We have to, Mia. You remember it now better than you will tomorrow." Silence fell again.

"We hadn't eaten anything yet. If he was poisoned. It must have happened at the wedding." Dylan's eyes widened.

"You ate nothing?" Dylan repeated. "Nothing?" If they ate and drank nothing, it must have been the wedding. But that meant... it was likely that the killer was at the wedding that day.

"I... think so." Dylan fell silent. Surely not. He looked at Mia. Long, blonde hair. Pink lips. But no birthmark.

"I'm sorry, I have to go... to Henry." He turned and walked away slowly. No, there was someone else at the wedding that day. A person with blonde hair, lips red like a dying sun. No, that wouldn't make sense. But... the birthmark. He entered the dining room and walked towards Henry's body. One of the medical examiners was talking to other officers, but Dylan could hear it loudly.

"He's likely been poisoned. We need to get an autopsy just to be sure, but," Dylan's eyes started watering again. "For now just assume poison as the cause of death."

_

The next morning, Dylan had reveived more information regarding the crime scene. It was sent to him so that he could look at it from home.

Cause of death: poison (kind: yet unknown)

Time of death: ~20:20

This he already knew. What came next, he didn't.

According to the autopsy:

They found that the area around the mouth was completely clean. There were also slim to no traces of food in his mouth. All of the food in his stomach had been ingested earlier that day. Investigation at the scene had no results either. No poison in any consumables around the house. Henry had no allergies. He was likely poisoned at the wedding.

Further investigation:

Around a week begore Henry's death, he made an adjustment to his will. All of his money and most of his personal belongings will be inherited by: Anna Hanford.

Dylan felt his face turn white as a ghost. Anna. It couldn't be. She had been friends with Henry for years. She was at the wedding. She was a woman with blonde hair, red lips. And a birthmark. Fearfully awaiting, he read on.

Anna had been seen at the wedding that day. At this point in time, she is the primary suspect.

Furthermore, Henry left other things to other people, including:

6 books about plants, herbs and gardening, written by Henry, left to: his wife Mia.

A children's book called "Detective Surley and the Kiss of Death", left to: Dylan Stanley.

That is all regarding the people that were present at the wedding. Further information about the three named people is mentioned below.

Dylan felt his face turn even whiter. Surely he wouldn't be a suspect. No, looking at this information it was almost obvious that Anna was the one who poisoned Henry.

Information primary suspect:

Anna is a highschool teacher in biology. She is 42 years old with a husband William. She was present at the wedding with William. At the time of death, she was still driving home from the wedding earlier that day.

Information important witnesses:

Mia is Henry's wife. They married earlier that day. She is an influencer known for make-up tutorials and cooking video's. She discovered Henry's body shortly after his death.

Dylan is a police officer assigned to a seperate case about a robbing and is currently assisting this case as well. He personally knows Henry. He was at the scene of crime minutes after it was reported.

That was all. There were a few links regarding information about Anna, Mia and him, but he didn't need to look at that. He knew enough about them. He thought back to Ben's interrogation. The way he had described the woman. Long blonde hair. Red lips. And even the birthmark. If he was speaking the truth... he could've been speaking of Anna. No, surely not. But then there was Henry's will. According to that, he left almost all of his belongings to Anna. But that didn't make sense either. It would be logical to suspect an affair. But Henry wasn't the type of person to cheat on his girlfriend- no, on his wife. Though of course no one at the station knew about this exept him. And he could never prove it. Might there be some other explanation? Wait. Dylan spun around in his chair. He needed to confirm if Anna was indeed the woman Ben was talking about. He shouldn't draw any conclusions.

"Sarah, honey! I need to go to the station! I'll call you when I get back!" He stood up and left.

_

"You're sure?" Dylan held up a photo of Anna, as he showed it to Ben. "There is no doubt in your mind?" Ben looked at the photo, squinting his eyes.

"Nope, I'm sure." Dylan put the picture down.

"Even though you were drunk that night?"

"Yeah. It's exactly as I said. Blonde hair, red lips and a square birth mark." Dylan looked at Ben. He saw calmness in his eyes. He'd never seen anything like this before. He sat down in the chair, across from Ben. No one he'd ever interrogated told on someone, a killer at that, this easily. And this carelessly.

"So, let me lay it all out," Dylan said. "You walked into a bar. You met this woman," he pointed at Anna. "You then went outside and made a deal with her: she would pay you to steal these herbs for her, and you then took that offer." Dylan stared at Ben.

"Yep, that's what happened."

"What did you do with the herbs after you stole them?"

"I gave them to her." Dylan looked confused into Ben's eyes.

"And what about the money she promised you?" Ben raised his eyebrows and started thinking.

"Well. She told me that she would pay me. That I would get it eventually." Now it was Dylan's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"And you... believed her? How was she going to do that? And when?" Ben furrowed his eyebrows, glanced to his left and looked up again.

"I..." silence fell, as Dylan looked into Ben's eyes. "I dunno."

"She didn't give you any more information?" Ben shook his head. "Alright. Let me ask you something again. This could be important, you understand?" Ben nodded. "What were you doing before you went to the bar?" Dylan saw how Ben put his hands on the chair's armrests. His left index finger started tapping.

"It was just a normal day. I go to the bar twice a week."

"But this was the only time you saw her?" Ben's tapping became more intense, untill it suddenly stopped.

"Right." whispered Ben. Dylan opened his mouth. "I want a lawyer. I don't wanna answer any questions." Dylan sighed.

"Alright. It's fine, I was done asking questions anyways." Dylan stood up and left the room.

He walked further into the hallway untill he reached his own office. There, he sat down in his chair. He vividly remembered his conversations with Ben. Something was horribly off. Ben had been calm. Too calm. So certain. At the strangest points. He remembered her face perfectly. Long blonde hair. Red lips. A square birthmark. Even though he had been drunk. But everything else? Nothing. Not what she said. Not how the deal was made. Not why he trusted her. Just her face. Dylan leaned back in his chair. That didn't make sense. People don't just forget everything but a face. Not like that. And then that deal.

"Eventually"

That's all she had promised him. And Ben just accepted it. Just like that. For a woman he never met. No, that wasn't forgetfullness. It was something else. There had to be a reason. It was silent in his office. But not in his head. Suddenly, he realised. The possibility. That would explain everything. Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door, and the door was opened. An officer came in.

"Anna is here." Dylan stood up. "Follow me." Dylan followed him, absent-mindedly. That had to be it. He shouldn't draw conclusions. But this wasn't a guess. It was a pattern. Ben didn't remember her. He remembered what he was told to remember.

Anna was in distress. She repeatedly told Dylan she was innocent. And Dylan repeatedly told her he believed her. Anna hadn't been questioned yet, and she wouldn't be questioned by Dylan. That would be done by another investigator, Jarren.

"Rest assured, I will catch the culprit." Jarren said, as if he were in an action movie. "Will you be investigating with me?"

"Yes," Dylan said. "But I have another lead. I'll pursue that one." He walked away again, towards his car.

"What lead is that?" Jarren asked him, as Dylan walked away.

"Anna," said Dylan. "Is innocent."

Dylan arrived at the club, across the store that had been robbed. Ben said that he saw the woman come here once. But Ben couldn't be trusted. He entered the club. It was dark, and his eyes had to adjust a little. It would be hard to question everyone in here. He didn't know who had been here that day. Though he knew that there was one person who likely was.

"Anything to drink, sir?" Dylan answered by showing his badge.

"I'm Dylan. I want to ask you some questions." The bartender looked around. He looked at the other bartender.

"I have some time to spare." He said.

"Thank you," said Dylan. "Were you working here last week, as the store was robbed?" The bartender smiled slightly.

"I thought you might ask about that. Yes, I was there that day."

"Did you by any chance see this man in here?" Dylan showed him a picture of Ben. "Or maybe this woman." He now held up a picture of Anna.

"The man's face is familiar, he might have been here. As for the woman... she was here, pretty sure." Dylan looked surprised.

"Really?"

"Yes. Although, maybe that birthmark on her cheek might have been slightly different. Maybe a bit more...stretched?" Dylan nodded. "But it's dark in here, I can't be too sure."

"Why are you so sure that she was in here?"

"Because she tried to flirt with me. She did with some other people as well. That's the reason I rejected her before she could get too many words out."

"She... flirted with you?" Dylan frowned. He'd known Anna for a few years. She wouldn't flirt with some guy at a bar, let alone multiple people. Dylan didn't even know if she was physically capable of it.

"Yeah, she did. Eventually she was hooked onto this guy. Don't know what he looked like, but they left almost immediately." Dylan hummed slightly, thinking.

"Were you the only one working here that day?"

"Yeah, I was." Dylan nodded.

"Thank you for your help. That's all."

"No problem at all." said the bartender. He smiled and went back to work.

Dylan was back at his office. It started to get late. He thought of his conversation with the bartender. A slightly more stretched birthmark. That's what he said. It might have been dark in there, but still. There was inconsistency. Is there any correlation between what Ben and the bartender said? He spun around in his chair, until he abruptly stopped himself.

"No way." He said to himself. The first time he and Ben spoke, Ben had told him that the birth mark was diamond-shaped, or square-shaped. It was only as he saw the picture that he knew for sure. Could the birthmark be... Dylan put his hands to his head. Could it be fake? His head succumbed to gravity and he let it rest on his desk. Information flew uncontrollably through his head. Herbs. Poison. 6 books about plants and herbs. "No." He spoke again. Could there be an ulterior motive? Henry loved gardening. So much so that he wrote books about it. And those books were left to... Mia. Mia, the make-up artist. With a few adjustments, she could look just like... Henry jumped up out of his chair. He sprinted down the hallway. He didn't take a police car, but instead took his own. He drove, in silence. His eyes were wide open, as if he had just seen a ghost. Or a monster. He came up to Henry's house and saw Mia. She was in the garden, seemingly taking care of her plants. He stepped outside, looking at Mia with his eyes wide open.

"Dylan! What are you doing here?" She asked him. Dylan's expression quickly turned back to normal.

"I have a lead on the case. Had to come by to ask you some questions about it." They slowly neared one another as they walked to the front door. Mia opened the door.

"I would be glad to help." She walked inside, and Dylan followed her. "Want somethig to drink?" Dylan looked up at her.

"No thanks. Not thirsty." He sat down in a chair, at their dining table. The exact chair Henry had sat in before he died. "You got those books right? About gardening... and herbs?" Mia looked at him.

"Yeah, I did." It was silent. "I still can't believe Anna took the money. What am I supposed to do now?" Dylan stared at Mia.

"Do you think Henry is the type of person to cheat on his wife?" He asked.

"Well, no. I didn't used to think so." She hesitated slightly. Dylan nodded.

"I heard something interesting from another investigator, Jarren. Appearently Henry's will was changed just a week before his death, somewhere around the time that the store was robbed." Mia put on her lip balm.

"I didn't know that."

"Do you like gardening, Mia?"

"I do." She put on red lipstick.

"Are you any good with make-up? Could you... I don't know, put a fake birthmark on your cheek?" She glanced up at him, innocently.

"I need to tell you something." Mia stood up. "But you can't tell anyone. Promise?" She walked towards him and put her lips next to his ear. "Wanna know how I killed him?" She kissed him on his cheek, and then quickly stepped away. Dylan closed his eyes in disguist.

"So you did kill him." Dylan's voice was deeper than it normally was. He looked up at her, menacingly.

"I did." She smiled. She glanced at his cheek, where she had just kissed him. "I did it just like that." She took a tissue to wipe the lipstick off of her lips. "That lipstick is quickly absorbed into the skin, it might already be entering your bloodstream." Dylan kept staring at Mia. He was indeed looking at a monster. "I kissed him on the lips, so it only took about 30 seconds. I'd give you... a few minutes tops?" Dylan quickly tried to wipe the lipstick off of his face, but it was already gone. "My lip balm protects my own lips, so I don't die myself." She grinned calmly. "I told him just like this." Dylan sighed.

"Please, Mia. Give me the comfort of knowing what you did." They looked at eachother. "Before I die."

"I simply led him to the conclusion to leave money to Anna. Told him she helped me ask him to marry me. All I had to do then was quickly adjust the amount."

"What about Ben? You manipulated him."

"The sucker totally fell for me. I described Anna in detail and left the rest to him." Dylan felt himself get colder as the conversation went on.

"One last question," he said. "Why?"

"Because," said Mia. "I had to. He wouldn't have given those books to me. They're dangerous in the right hands. They're not just about plants and herbs. I needed them. I didn't need to make money this first time, I'll do that the next time." She smiled. Dylan smiled as well. He put his hand in his jacket and it made a loud clicking noise.

"Get in here you guys, we've got all we need, right?"

_

Dylan was lying in a hospital bed. His wife Sarah stood over him as he woke up. He looked at her with joy.

"Honey, what did you do?" Dylan couldn't help but smile.

"I caught Henry's killer." His eyes watered, and a tear fell down his face. "I made her confess."

"I'm so proud of you." She leaned over to hug him. As she did, she whispered to him. "Were you planning... to die?" She let go of him, and now the tears came down her face as well.

"No. Sarah. I knew." He smiled lightly. "Mia had books about her poison. I trusted the medical team to save me there." His wife smiled as well, and couldn't help but let out a slight laugh.

"Look at you," she said. "Confident enough to put your own life at risk." She hugged him again, and gave him a kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad."

Tick, tick, tick. That grandfather clock just kept ticking. It's like it rebelled against time itself to end up here, in an office. Despite all odds and events, it just kept on ticking. For the office workers that were bored, the ticking seemed to feel like an endless, devestating loop. That was untill its tick lined up perfectly with the second hand on their watches, allowing them to escape from the office. No one seemed to enjoy doing this job. No one but one person, who was being approached in his cubicle.

"Johaaan, you working already?" He leaned with one hand on the desk. "Our lunch break's just over!"

"It's John, Michael. Not Johan." John's voice was monotonous, and his gaze remained fixated on the computer.

"I'm sorry about that, man," silence fell, after which, out of nowhere, Michael started sniffing loudly. "Dangg, it's clean in here too, I don't even smell any coffee. Do you have a life outside of this cubicle Johnathan?" John kept staring at his computer, letting an awkward silence fall again.

"I do not drink any coffee, Michael." Michael raised his eyebrows beyond the average person's capacity to, and whistled.

"Of course you don't. You earned that reputation, man." Michael tapped John's desk and slowly turned around as if it was a dance move.

"I'll remember that." As he heard it, Michael turned around again.

"Huh? Well, just keep making that money, Johnny jew." He spoke those last words as he turned around again and went back to his cubicle.

Later, as Michael escaped the office, he saw John still sitting at his desk. He walked past the swinging pendulum of the clock. Time to go home again.

It was a lonely monday morning. Michael left the cold rain as he walked into the office building. As he passed the clock, he saw a group of people gathered in the middle of the office. No one noticed him as he walked in, so he called out to them.

"Hey, what's going on here?" No one responded, but one man came over to him. Michael smiled at the man. "Don't we have to work today?" The man looked at his feet as he approached Michael. Then he looked up again.

"Do you know the man that worked in that cubicle over there?" He pointed at John's cubicle, which was now almost completely empty.

"Yeah, sure, that bum. I think his name was Johan, or Johnathan." The man blinked once. Slowly. He went silent before he went on speaking.

"He took his own life. Two days ago now." Micheal fell silent. Any movement suddenly felt taboo. He stared at the man, as if looking beyond him.

"He... why?" Micheal could vaguely hear his own voice somewhere off in the distance. He heard the clock as well. Ticking. Tick, tick, tick. Slowly, his senses calmed down.

"I don't know. All I know is that in a minute, someone else will take his cubicle, I believe his name is Dorian." The man turned towards John's cubicle again. "So we're busy taking all of his stuff out at the moment. He didn't have any relatives, so you can take whatever you want." He now pointed at the group of people. "His stuff is being distributed right there." Michael now stared at the group. His head felt weirdly empty. Why?

"I..." he held the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, and looked at the ground. His eyebrows furrowed. "I don't want anything."

"Fine by me." Michael couldn't stand it. The tone of that man. "You can start working in your cubicle." Michael mindlessly obeyed the command, and slowly shuffled towards his cubicle. The chair creaked as he sat down in it. The computer whirred as he silently turned it on. He could almost hear the ticking of that clock. The computer turned on, and told him the time: 9:32 AM. Leaning back in his chair, he stared at the computer. With a sigh, he bent himself forward to get to work.

From the corner of his eye, Michael saw a brown head of hair moving across the edge of his cubicle. Michael sat straight in his chair and saw the man sit down in John's cubicle. That must be Dorian. Should he? No he shouldn't. To distract himself, Michael kept working. But then he stood up. Like he used to everyday, he walked towards John's cubicle.

"Hey. You the new guy Dorian?" The man looked up at Michael, who had now put his hand on the desk.

"Yep, that's me." Dorian put on a smile. "Who are you?" Michael let a brief silence fall, as he listened to the faint whirring of John's computer.

"I'm Michael. Do you know the person that used to work in here?" Michael's face had no expression, and Dorian seemed to be confused about how to react.

"Uhh, no. I don't." Michael's reaction now came fast.

"His name was John, and he used to work harder than anyone else." As Michael said it, he couldn't stand himself. Dorian had a dumbfound expression on his face, and before he could react, Michael had walked away. He came across the ticking clock as he walked by it. Tick, tick, tick.

As lunch break approached, people started leaving their cubicles. Micheal watched in silence as Dorian was one of the first people to leave his cubicle. Throughout the break, Michael sat in his chair, staring at his computer. One by one people came back in. No one turned to look at him, as if he was just a piece of furniture. He looked at Dorian again. As Dorian entered his cubicle, he started talking with a coworker. Sooner than he realised, the day was over. He walked past the clock on his way out, hearing the never-ending ticking slowly fade away.

The next morning wasn't anything special. The sky was gray, and the air was slightly cold. It blended in with his office building as he entered it. Tick, tick, tick. He walked past the clock and saw John's cubicle, with Dorian inside of it. Dorian was sitting in his chair, sleepily playing with a pencil. Tick, tick, tick. Michael stood still. He stared at Dorian. Tick, tick, tick. The clock was just ticking. Michael turned backwards and walked towards the clock. Tick, tick, tick. Michael's loud footsteps were muffled by the carpet. Tick, tick, tick. That grandfather clock just kept ticking. Michael clenched his fist as he struck the clock in the middle, shattering the glass. He hesitated. His fist started to bleed. It started to hurt. Then he struck again. Tick, tick, tick. He struck it again. Tick, tick. And again. Tick. He grabbed the swinging pendulum and pulled it as hard as he could. His hand slipped, as he fell to the ground...

Tick, tick, tick. He lay on the ground. Tears started to form in the corners of his eyes as he looked at the clock. The corners of his mouth became heavy. He rested his head on the ground and put a bleeding hand on top of his face.