Occupational Odds

By Janet Stevenson

I’m acutely aware of the fluorescent hum in my ordinary cubicle screwing with my self-control while I analyze dates, times, and bottom lines over many long days and longer nights that make for short years.

Today, my curious cursor impatiently blinks and blinks before a digital system failure with a big blue screen error. Anxiety arises and my emotional firewall cracks.

That’s it! I’m giving two weeks’ notice. I want to delete bits and bytes and insert the sights of the best state parks in America before my headstone inscription reads:

He was a diligent digital whiz redirecting data before decomposing.