The office desk, the most ignored piece of equipment in an office where technology runs supreme. It holds secrets of the person sitting behind it, the beatings of the angry boss as they yell at employees, the tears of failure or joy. A desk can hold the secrets of the universe and still sit there in the most inconspicuous corner of the human conscience.

This desk in particular, sat in the office of one of the police offices of Central City, it was damaged slightly when the bolt of lightning struck the occupant of the office that ran this room. Then sat barely used as a succession of temps came and went through the lab, each one ignoring the table as small and useless.

Months passed before the lightning struck boy returned, though something did seem off to a table that had seen much in its long life of service in this office. First ignored as the others had, but soon became a convenient place to hold its various and often numerous food offerings. It soon saw the boy moving faster than even a normal human would move.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Though time had no meaning to the piece of furniture, it had a feeling that it knew a secret that few others could comprehend, though like others of its kind it kept its master’s secrets, ready to do its job to the best of its abilities till the time the humans deemed it worthless and moved it to the dreaded “trash pile” that most furniture eventually ended up.

The boy even fixed the small dent that his head had made when the lightning had struck, and the desk remained useful through thick and thin, standing eternally mute, keeping the secrets of the ages within its metal structure, adding its usefulness to the police department as much as its simple form could handle.

Next up: “Roommates”