Broken City - Jow Bates

James' eyes hurt, the dim glow of the computer monitor humming luminescence into his peripheral office space.

"I can't help you, James."

His mouse clicked ineffectively to itself, failing to shake clear the Outlook window that had affixed itself to the cursor.

"This is your own fault."

James tapped frustratedly at his keyboard, the fact that he was the only person left at work was becoming ever more present. As his tapping deteriorated into thumping, the PC in front of him exploded into a cataclysm of error-sounds and broken windows.

"Why do this to yourself, James?

James burried his head into his keyboard and sobbed, his wings unfurled themselves haphazardly across the cubical space, spilling a cold coffee from a polystyrene cup. Ashen feathers exploded over the similarly grey carpet as his awkward alate frame silhouetted the already dull surroundings of James' office.

"Go home James."

James' head remained resting on folded arms, refusing to greet the blue screen in front of him with defeat, his wings began to flap impatiently, displacing the notices and stationary from their assigned areas. He sobbed.

"You don't need to do this James."

"I don't want to talk about this, this isn't for me. I can't explain it properly and I wouldn't want to. It's perfect as an idea, it doesn't need to be sullied with a fucking artists rendition of the denotative. It's makes more sense with connotative idealism than it does with  second hand retrospect anyway. Fuck it, it's a broken idea, from a broken man, with broken wings. No wonder it works so fucking well." - Typed James on the unresponsive keyboard, signing it off with an ironic tap of the return key.

"Are you finished now, James?"

James woke up to the repetitive electric barking of his alarm, his face burried into the pillow his was wrapped around. 06:00; A full day of work ahead. Karen leaned in to whisper matter-of-factly into his ear;

"Time to get up, James."