…Days fly by, leaving only the memory of blurs gone by.  Leaving an empty feeling where we were once complete.

Quiet descends and Paul looks up from his not so new yellow legal pad, which he has filled not with in-depth notes, but most recently with a poem which he felt might better explain how painful this meeting had become.  He takes a deep breath and then nods to the balding man in glasses “I don’t know Jerry what are the numbers telling you?”.  The attention in the room shifts to poor Jerry who was just as bored but ever attentive to whom ever the speaker would be at which ever meeting they were attending, Paul hated doing that giving noncommittal responses then throwing someone else, anybody else, under the bus.  Today’s bus was the sudden selling crises which even the most brightly colored ads had not been able to stop as “The Store”, as he liked to refer to it, entered into the pre-summer downward slide.  It was worse this year than they had seen in ages which ment daily meetings with too many nameless faces for far too many hours, and Paul could no longer find it in himself to even try to pay attention.

His head dipped back down to his legal pad.          The onslaught creating a stir of shadows which while confusing serves as the only anchor as all of substance drains out.

Jerry’s signature throat clear suggests that he will be making his concluding remarks, and Paul willing obeys the summons again tearing his eyes from the page pin still poised.  “That makes sense Jerry, thank you.  Does anyone have anything to add to this?”  As expected no less than three eager mid-level types want to respond so badly that there is practically a verbal car crash.  “Please,” Paul says indicating the order in which they should voice their opinions.

He watches just long enough for the glazed feeling to cover his eyes then he drops the pin back to paper.          An earth rending void prevails yawning wide encapsulating all.

Paul needs no auditory signal this time ,he glances up as the last mid-level finishes her sentence award-winning smile firmly in place.  “Thank you all for your valuable input,” here Paul gestures to include the entire table and even sees a few people wearing self-satisfied grins before he turns to the slip of a woman near the window, “Please have the notes on my desk by the end of the day Linda.”  People get up to leave in small groups discussing the meeting or weekend plans.  As one pair walks by he catches a few whispered words, “I kept hoping someone would walk in and put me out of my misery.”

Laughing to himself he finishes the poem.          Only the misery remains dying the slow torturous death.          “Perfect,” Paul says to the legal pad tittleing his work Friday Meeting, he rises from his seat meats Linda’s false pleasantries and walks back into the world.

      

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