I couldn't look that Guy in the eye, just seeing his face made my stomach lurch violently and the memories of that day filled me with nausea, never again.

I stopped going to the cafeteria at lunchtime, instead working on the extra documents I asked for. I wanted to overtake them all, be the best, at least better than him, but I didn't know what I was asking for.

Before I resented that at the end of the day, work wouldn't leave me, but now, I didn't leave work.

The hours blurred together, with time losing meaning as I worked late into the night and woke up at my desk minutes before my shift started with no memories of going to sleep.

I believed I could work without a single drop of coffee, that I needed to work without the substance, I had something to prove. Also because it scared me, what coffee did to all the office workers.

I wanted to keep my distance from those menacing figures as much as possible, but on one of the worst and heaviest days of work I've had so far, I realized how futile that idea was.

I could barely keep my eyes open of how tired I was, paired with my pounding headache, it felt like my brain was being wringed like a sponge. I could feel a liquid dripping into my mouth, hot with a metallic taste, when I touched it, my fingers showed a dark shade of red, dripping from my face like a leaking faucet.

I felt myself shudder at the sight of blood, but too tired to do anything about it.

Until it clicked in my head, against any preservation instinct I had or common sense, I knew I needed a cup of coffee.

One hand held my nose while the other held the paper cup filled with black liquid like tar, it felt like nothing I had seen before, spewed out of the machine like leaking car oil, it was slimy and it seemed to absorb any light that touched it, like a hot cup of the void of space. The smell filled me with nausea as I approached my mouth, crossing the barrier of my fingers and invading my bleeding nose, but all my co-workers drink coffee, how bad can it be?

The first sip was the worst, the taste of burning filling my mouth, not burnt coffee ... Another thing. I choked on the pale content, but my autonomous hand dumped the contents down my throat to the last drop.

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It was contamination, something corrupting my body inside, violating, breaking. A feeling of absolute disgust washed over me, but as soon as the overwhelming emotion overtook me, it disappeared, until there was nothing left.

The headache became a slight hum at the edge of my consciousness, the way I felt started to fade, not completely disappearing, it felt like the coffee kept my disintegrating state in stasis, I felt numb, but in a good way.

I finished the task two hours earlier than usual, as I still had time, I took another folder to fill.

I've never been more productive.

-----

I couldn't stop thinking about the room I was going to get after reaching first place. I would have a big table with 6 drawers, I have no idea what I was going to fill them with, maybe office supply, I doubt they would ask the assistant manager for a sticky pad.

I wonder if I can get a window, I really want a window, I need a window. When I have to work hours late into the morning, I could look at the horizon, and instead of cubicles I would see... Other buildings, as tall as this one. Even so, any change would be positive at this point.

The moment I see the amount of work I have to do, I feel suffocated, realizing how childlish these fantasies are in the face of reality. I'm about to finish a document when I hear someone tapping on my cubicle wall. The resounding sound in my head works like a bucket of white paint, erasing all the thoughts I had at the time, eliminating my ability to understand what to do with the tasks.

This had only happened once before, I thought myself above of this effect nowaday. The last time this happened I was unable to work for the rest of the day.

A whole day without being able to work.

Wasting a whole day?

“Can you lend me a pen—“

He didn't finish his question, when I came to me I already plunged my fist in his face. There was no noise at all, the contact of my punch with his face, but the sound of him falling to the ground was enough to draw the attention of everyone around us. Like as a signal spreading to everyone on the floor, I heard the sound of keyboards dying in all directions, figures like shadows rising one by one in their cubicles to watch what I did, and I wonder, what did I do?

Looking at the sad figure on the floor holding his face with a lost look, I felt nothing, he should have known better, trash. He doesn't deserve to work for the company.

I ask for the people watching transfixed on me and him “What are you waiting for, there is work to be done” and reluctantly, they go back to work.

I see that employee with nothing better to do staggering away to his cubicle, idiot.

I sit in my chair and turn my attention to the computer screen, I can feel the knowledge slowly coming back to me the moment the white paint fades away.

In the end I didn't even need to be this dramatic, but then, maybe they will learn to not bother me anymore.

I take a sip of coffee, there's a lot of work to do.