Tris and I would often sneak into dad's office. Sometimes we would go unnoticed, the rest faced consequences. 

There're always some hastily stacked paper on his desk. A clock, and a coffee mug. The clock stopped working long time ago.

A big box stood to the left of the door. If it wasn't for the fact that it's full of trash, it's purpose is none other than just an ordinary box. His colleagues mentioned the sight of a proper trash bin annoys him. 

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A delivery package came earlier today. It was half opened, left on the spot. Dad had rushed out earlier after he got a look at the content. He passed us without noticing.

Tris and I finished the rest of this package-opening job. We took out two neat stacks of papers, my name on every single page of one stack and his of the other. A double digit number less than the age of retirement is also seen along.

We took them all out and dumped them into the box. Knowing full well our dad is waiting for us at home, it was certainly not a day of enjoyment.