It’s quarter to eight, and I have a little over an hour left of desensitizing labor. So far, I got my reports in, I tend to take quite a while reading before submitting them, but today I only skimmed a few. One guy, Marco Ramirez, can create internal earthquakes in people, said to be unimaginably painful, but probably incomparable to my devastating coffee migraines.

Apparently, Marco Ramirez lost his penny when he was getting spare change to buy something. To think that he keeps the most important object related to his job, keeping it with his other change.

Well, when they went to find him and get him a different one, he was just gone. I initially felt like it's an overreaction for a guy who probably just had to find a bathroom, but I guess when it takes over three hours and he’s still missing it's considered an emergency.

The other reports I had read were quite dull in comparison. Sprained ankles, new penny polish, and ironically company sexual harassment reports. The few times I have seen Mr.Harrison since then he hasn’t maintained any eye contact with me, I really should get that bible.

I think it’s justified after being so productive, and the lack of contact with any prying bosses, it’s a good time to take a nap. I remain half awake so I attempt to envision what it would be like doing fieldwork.

It's difficult without even knowing what I do, a magical flying tie? Hm… Lack of creativity really will make this impossible. New start, let's try to think of what I can do, what could be my skill. With my limited creativity, all that I could think of was those silver pennies.

As a kid, I always had fun trying to manipulate a coin to make it always go heads or tails, ah innocent childhood fraud. Maybe if I went in the field, I could flick the pennies really hard? Sigh, this… This is what people always ranted about. Public school and dead-end jobs take away your creativity.

After I finished my reports I did the classic thing everyone does when they have no hobbies, and sat at the watercooler, not that I drank much.

To promote growth they add some essential oil that increases magic potency. If God wanted essential oils it wouldn’t take a million flowers to make one bottle. I cringe at the flavored water, I accidentally filled my cup full. I would leave it behind but the bottom is pointed, forcing us lowly workers to have to finish it. I mean that would've been a great idea if not for the sink about eight feet away. I dump the green-tinted water in the sink.

The walls are in nowhere, which leads one to wonder where the water goes. Well, I shouldn’t concern myself with that unless it leads to my mouth. After that I walked back to my desk to grab my penny, I finally get to leave.

I hold my penny up above my head for a minute until I feel my center of gravity change, the penny falls upward of my hand. My feet touch off the ground and I fall through the roof and back into the blue-green abyss.

My mind fogs over in the silent fall, will I ever be able to get out of this office? I’m not one who likes to complain… Ok, I complain, but is there any way I could ever be a field worker?

What do they even do with their skills? What do they use them on? Maybe things are simpler if I just have this job instead.

I finally fall back onto solid ground. Well, semi-solid. On landing my feet sink into a foot of snow, a well-deserved foot of snow. After all my luck today, I power through it for the fifteen-minute walk to my apartment.

By the time I arrive my feet and lower legs are fully numb. It feels like I'm walking with peg legs. I look up at the dingy three-story building. A flickering red and yellow neon sign with some bird poop smudged down the middle really tells the quality of Maron Apartments.

I walk up one set of metal steps and find room 5B, I jimmy my key in the lock until it clicks open. I hear a voice from inside, “Oh finally back, I was expecting to have to carry your cold carcass back”.

You know, when they talk about becoming an adult, getting an apartment with a roommate, you never expect it to be your sarcastic German father.

“There is a foot of snow out there, it's hardly believable I made it back this fast”.

My father turns around to face me, it’s surprising that we are related. I have dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and eyebags. He has a broad forehead, long light brown hair, and two defined crease between his eyebrows like he’s yelling at somebody, well in this case he is.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“One foot? Tell me, how much is that in metric?”.

It seems being petty is quite a dominant gene, I ignore him and go to the cupboard for some nighttime cereal.

I drown out his banter to pour some raisin bran. The milk looked slightly questionable, but not enough to rival my nighttime cravings. I take a bite and it might as well have been pieces of rubber.

I look on the bottom and guess what, slightly over a year expired. I go to throw the cereal out, I open the trash and toss the box, only to be frightened by a quick pale hand snatching it before it reaches the trashcan.

“What do you think you’re doing?”.

My father’s eyes show a look that says “Is this even my son?”.

I put the trash can lid down “Am I not supposed to throw out expired food?”.

My dad clicks his tongue, “Remus you don’t know how it was during WWll, eating bread made of sawdust and water. Why would I throw away good food? If you want a new box, fill the bag with stones, glue the top shut, and ask the store for a different one”.

My father definitely has a way with words, words that will someday get him banned from every store in a five-mile radius. I decide against cereal, but as I go to dump it, I see his eyes leering at me. I stare back at him and chew slowly with a smug look on my face, you win this one father.

After snacking on rubber bran, I go to my bedroom. To the untrained eye, it might look like I haven’t personalized it in any way, that it is about as drab as a hotel room, but the truth of it is, I am just not that interesting.

Besides the bookshelf filled with garage sale throwouts, knockoffs of books like Henry Potter and Percius Jacks’ son, there really isn’t much to see. Besides the point though. My dad brought up an interesting subject WWll, the reason MMP formed in the first place, to protect from threats to the Country.

When resources were needed, and the country finally started to see a turning point against Germany, in 1943. But now it’s 2013, the biggest worry in recent times was the whole Miyan calendar 2012 end of the world fiasco.

I sit down at my desk and open the bottom drawer to reveal two marbles. I take them out and set them on the desk. I may be boring, I may be lame sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try at all. I close my eyes, I concentrate until I hear a ringing that pulses in my ear, louder, louder.

I open my eyes and try to concentrate the ringing to the marble, the glass starts to shiver, eventually, it rolls about half an inch forward, then back, then forward. I attempt to lift the marble, but the ringing dissipates, and sweat beads form on my forehead.

I still haven’t been able to lift them in the air, or move two at once, but my persistent curiosity wills me to try. I lay my head back and let my arms fall to my sides. Again, the marble rolls, guided by the pulses of sound, ok one is rolling, now for the other one.

I try to split my concentration on both marbles, but the ring fades. Again. I close my eyes again hearing the pulse and letting it ring in my head, instead of focusing on splitting it, I just decide not to focus on multiple objects, but just a range that I can move objects in.

I try to focus on an imaginary circle around myself to attempt to move the marbles, again one moves, surprisingly, the other one begins to quiver. It moves for a second, however, I got too excited and forgot to imagine the range, the ring fades out, and my head is aching. I will say it again, if I never had the creativity pounded out of me by public schooling, and office work, I’d be making marbles fly in circles.

Through all my exhaustion I fall asleep, only to be woken an hour later by the bear-like snores of my father. People get guard dogs to prevent them from getting robbed. I have something much scarier, A Jewish-German man who can rival the noise of a jet plane taking off. I decided to do something to try to reincite my creativity.

I grab a piece of paper from the printer and fold it, crumple it, and try again for a while. Once I have something that mildly resembles a paper airplane, I look at it for a second, this is a stupid idea. I toss the plane onto my bed. Time for another nighttime snack. They always tell you about the three meals of the day, and how breakfast is so important, but they never mention the beast awakening in your stomach at 10:30 pm, growling, and grumbling to be fed.

Well Mr. Monster, I hope some spray cheese and crackers will satisfy you. After I'm done; I go to the bathroom, and clean some bits of cheese off my face.

I look at the mirror, my eyes meet my own. I lightly lift my shirt. Those 6-minute abs videos are the worst scam I’ve fallen for. Imagine having to do it more than once to get abs. I look at the mirror again and flex, only to hear a squeak by the door. Wait… Wait! Where did the bear-like noises go? Oh crap.

My eyes burn holes into my face as I turn to see my father standing, sleepy-eyed, slightly shaking his head back and forth then grabs my hand. “Look at this, what woman would like, with such soft dainty hand”. Yes father the reason I don’t get dates is because my hands are too soft. Thank you, thank you for telling me this important information that I will someday tell my son; that I will be able to have because I will rub my hands with sandpaper every day, and attract flocks of women with my sexy rough hands.

“Ok Dad”. I walk out of the way so he could use the bathroom.

Retreating to my room and wondering if any other 23-year-olds have to go through this, I hop on my bed.

Next to me on my bed lay the paper airplane I had made earlier. Hesitantly, I pick up my phone and dial in a number, still not sure if I should do this. It nearly rings out until The ringing stops and I hear a “Hello?”. I have to do this, I have to make this call, I decide it is necessary,

“Hey Oscar, I know it's late but… I was kind of… wondering how you uh- How you make the airplanes float…”.