The office sounded like an office.

That intermittent clacking of cheap office keyboards being hammered away at. The dings of office elevators opening and closing in the distance, elsewhere, followed by squeaking carts rattling past, laden with office paper. The subdued background din of polite, banal, office banter.

The quiet but ever-present low hum of office lighting. Every now and again, the shrill ring of an office phone ringing - before it was picked up and answered with that office hello - followed by an office conversation.

If he stopped trying (and he had), the noises all about him started to bleed into each other, till it was all just kind of endless, meaningless, low melange of inane noise. 

Sabar's  screen was open in front of him. His eyes stared at it but saw nothing. The image on the screen was an email of some kind, a report. He didn't seem to be able to read it, no matter how long his eyes drank in the phosphorescent light of the screen.

" .. ... ...nk ... c.. ...... that ....r?"

Huh?

".... ca. ... "

"..."

"Sabar!" Finally losing his patience, his usually taciturn supervisor slammed his hand down on the table, raising his voice,  finally shaking Sabar from his reverie.

Murry leaned in close to check in on him, the middle-manager's usually clear brow now just a giant frown.

"You okay man?" Concern and irritation colored Murry's voice. Concern for if Sabar wasn't okay. Irritation for having to deal with another thing in a day full of things.

Sabar felt a just a little guilty. Then felt a little mad for feeling guilty. Then his brain cycled through maybe a dozen other feelings in rapid succession before settling back into the feelingless numb adrift it'd been in for the past two days.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"I need to go home, not feeling well today" He mumbled, before pushing away from his desk.

He picked up his things from under his desk and left without looking up. He didn't want to meet Murry's eyes. Sabar had known the man for years and he didn't have a lot bad to say about the gruff, often ornery, and sometimes unexpectedly perceptive boss of the engineering division. As bosses went, Sabar had seen worse.

Today, he didn't just have it in him to bullshit through some long storied excuse before escaping from the office. Somehow he could tell that if their eyes met, Murry would know some part of what he was going on with him.. and Sabar couldn't stomach the thought of what he'd see in Murry's eyes if he did. Pity or apathy.. or something else.

He reached out as he walked, his hand grabbing his coat. He could feel people's eyes on him as we walked away, but he didn't really care and he didn't look back. None of this would matter after today.

...

He avoided the elevators and walked to the end of the hall to the stairway.. and paused. For some reason, his legs still  from habit, he started walking up. From his desk on the 4th floor, it was seven sets of stairs to the roof. The trudge up the stairs felt strangely meditative.

Sabar felt behind the utility closet for the secret key to the roof the janitor slipped there for him and unlocked the door. He remembered to wedge a brick in the way to keep it propped open before slipping out.

He sat there on the roof for the longest time, cross-legged on the parapet, enjoying the cool air coming in from the ocean. After the last two days, his mind finally empty. Too tired to turn the same thoughts over and over again endlessly. He watched the sun turn a greedy tumescent orange as it inched slowly below the horizon. And he felt something finally come loose in his chest that he'd been holding in for days.

That's when he heard the quiet voice behind him.

"Don't jump"

And turned to see the the gleaming figure of Gibraltar, The Golden Man, the first of the new Gods.