My hand keeps hurting like hell, so I let it rest on my lap as I lean back in the office chair in my cubicle and close my eyes. The hurt is pulsating. Not just in the skin, but under the skin. Like red electricity extending from the centre and carrying the pain to my fingertips and up to my elbow. The longer I keep my eyes closed the less it feels like actual pain and more just like warm pressure.. pain is a weird thing like that. I always wondered if there wasn’t actually such a thing as “pain” but it’s more like a shock reaction to your body not being 100% untouched and in working order? I dunno...

The sounds of the office have quieted down. I can hear a few people softly walking around. Someone breathing heavily in their cubicle.

It’s Jerry. I bet it’s Jerry. Jerry with his orange fingers and that neck tie he keeps tying too tight. Everyone’s telling him to loosen it up and it’s funny because everyone literally meant his tie and he kept thinking we meant his personality so he’s just going further and further with his “loosening up”. First it was ordering one thousand donuts to the office. Then going to on some gung-ho survivalist trip to the Amazon without any gear or a map. “Amma be so relaxed! Amma get high on everything and explore uncharted areas of the jungle!”.

Goddamn, Jerry.

I try breathing through my mouth. The pain is making me feel sick.

The city outside the windows is filling with night noises. Police helicopters are passing by the window and I can hear sirens in the streets below but it’s getting harder for me to breathe so I pull on my shirt. Fingers are flimsy. It doesn’t do anything. More sirens but they’re wrapped in cotton. I’m sweating like a pig. In a BBQ. I can’t feel my fingers anymore.

Jerry’s stopped making noise. Fucking Jerry bit me. Who does that?

Gentle suffling. My feet.

My.

Feet.

Carpet. Close.

Dark.

…

..

.

My fingers. Fingers. Move. Hungry. Get up. Getupgetupgetup. Eat. Eat. Brains.