The Search For Meaning

The purpose of the meeting wasn't revealed beforehand.

Timothy walked into the boardroom carrying notebook and coffee, ready for anything. He dutifully took notes as the minutes were recited, then listened as each department head read their reports covering the previous 24 hours.

An argument broke out over the order of the reports. The company would not refer to it as an argument, but rather a protocol discussion. The minutes wouldn't make note of the raised voices on both sides.

Eventually, the meeting broke up. Everyone returned to their cubicles.

Timothy still had no idea why the meeting was convened.

Fresh Air

After twelve years of working on the 72nd floor of that building his curiosity got the better of him.

He’d been warned, “Whatever you do, don’t open the windows on this floor.” But it was the only floor with windows that opened. Why would there be a rule against using them?

Everyone was diligently working in their cubicles. He’d only crack it an inch or two. The latch flipped quietly.

Just as he placed his hands against the pane it disappeared, as if it had never existed. In his surprise he didn’t realize he’d leaned forward too far. He fell.

From Guest Contributor Cameron Filas