Gordon Perkins, Analyst

NATURE SUBMISSION:

Gordon drummed his pen listlessly as he stared out the window. From his office on the 24th floor, it was possible to see a sliver of ocean, but only when pressed against the glass. Here at his desk, all that was visible was the building across the street, a grey brick affair more depressing than his cubicle.

The plant on Gordon's desk was equally as depressed, drooping over the edge of the pot, three detached brown leaves huddled in the corner. They both needed the same cure. Sunlight and soil.

Instead, Gordon returned to the spreadsheet open on his desktop.

From Guest Contributor Stanley Dutt

Sam

Sam was a contradiction. He wore shirts partially tucked in with socks often mismatched. His hair combed in glossy strokes.

He tiptoed to his office cubicle ignoring everyone. They ignored him. Except for Anne who monitored his quota. It must’ve been adequate for he continued to pass me at the reception desk.

One day, I didn’t notice the scent of his signature aftershave. Nor saw his forlorn face staring at the patterned floor as he entered.

A radio news feature announced him as a “person of interest.” Missing. His apartment trashed.

Suddenly, everyone at the office became interested in Sam.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.