I went to the bathroom I had to pack up my stuff, but like the tremors I felt on the first day, I was drawn to the place were I could find any kind of stability, as my body moved itself, I had forgotten why that was, until I opened the door and in front of the mirrors, I saw him.

He was in there, it had been a long time since I last saw that Guy. He hasn't changed at all in this time, he seemed thinner sure, but he had a full head of hair and rosy cheeks, something he rarely saw around the office nowadays. But his score hasn't increased much since.

The truth is that he now finds himself struggling to maintain his mediocre score.

Not like I could look down on anyone, I was worse than trash now that I had lost my job.

But ... He had a smile on his face, a genuine smile on top of it, he was looking at an slip of paper as if it was a free coffe maker cupon and a promotion certificate at the same time.

I don't even remember the last time I saw him like this. The last time I saw someone like that, happy.

It made me ... restless.

"Did something good happen?" I asked, his bright eyes focused on me and I could feel my skin burning under his gaze.

I could see his smiling falter while looking at me, of what I had become. But those must have been quite the good news with only the dimming of his smile while his eyes still held that spark.

Or maybe he couldn't care less about me.

“I sure did,” he said, ecstase spilling through his voice “I sent my resignation letter today. As of Thursday, I'm not going to work here anymore ”he said, almost as if it were something ... good?

“What ... what do you mean, you don't have to work anymore? How are you going to live without a job? ” he didn't make any sense, he needs this job.

It doesn't make any sense.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“But I have work, something much better, I sent letters to independent curators and galleries and finally someone sent an answer, a proposal, for me to make my own exhibition, I know that it is not very sensible, but this is the moment I worked to get to my whole life! "

Exhibition ... Art ... what is he talking about?

"Did your brain rot inside your head or were you always this stupid? Are you really giving up the best opportunity of your life for ... art?"

His smile disappeared from his face, hurt showing on his face, his so expressive face, how I hated his face.

He probably would never speak to me again.

He tried to get out of the bathroom, but I grabbed him by the head, he didn't have time to react when I smashe him against the mirror. Shards of glass scattering everywhere with the impact, I could feel some digging into my flesh, but I kept on holding. It is not enough, it is not enough, it is not enough.

I felt his attempt at a struggle. But even in our designation as desk workers were to dictate us to be weak, I hadn't had my cup of coffee yet.

His blood a vibrant red dripping from my forearms.

I saw panic in his eyes.

I smashed his head against the sink, again and again and again and again, until I felt no more sign of resistance, until the only noise in there was the wet sound of flesh hitting marble.

His face became nothing more than pulp. I continued until the white of his skull was visible, which gave way with pieces of bones and brain sticking to the broken parts of the sink. I would have continued until there was nothing left to hit, but the adrenaline that had made me act in such a way was not enough to keep my waning body in perpetual motion.

His body fell to the ground, escaping the grip of my bony fingers in a puddle of his own blood, broken glass and pieces of marble.

I was breathing hard, I could feel the mania fading with the realization of what I had done dawning on me.

No...

Why should I care?

I already lost my job.

-----

The Guy's body was cooling beside me. I washed my hands and tried to get rid of the red spots on my shirt, but the more I rubbed, the worse it got. I believe that there was no more saving it, like my job.

I went back to my table, to my cubicle, I had things to pack.

I drank my last coffee inside the elevator.

But the elevator didn't stop at the ground floor, instead it started to descend deep underground, with no button alight to show which floor I was headed, I had no idea how much time I spent going down, it could have been weeks, it could have minutes, I took one more sip from the thermos.

When the doors opened, I saw one of the guys who filled the coffee machine.

Than everything went dark.