[center]“I am an upstanding citizen and a model employee.”[/center]
A facade of confidence, words spoken to a mirror. “If I stick to the program and work hard, I will be rewarded,” the reflection responded. Straightening his tie and coffee in hand, the man stepped outside his door. He turned left to wave at his neighbor; she waved back. He turned right to wave at his other neighbor; nobody home. Strange. His other neighbor was always there every morning at the same exact time, but he had been gone for a week. [i]Must be on vacation,[/i] the man thought. [i]If I work hard, I’ll get a vacation too. Taygete Bay is nice this time of year.[/i]

After the morning commute on the metro, the man found his home away from home: an office cubicle number 612. Some would say it was cramped, but he would call it cozy. Cozy, yes, for it was all the space he needed for his work. A large stack of papers greeted him on his desk, and thus began another day for the rest of his life.

[center]Time passes in ticks,
the mountain of papers fade.
Work is done at last.[/center]
A frozen Salisbury steak waited for him back at his apartment, ready to meet the microwave. He ate his dinner in deafening silence, letting his gaze wander over to the wallpaper peeling more with each passing day. “I’ll get a better place soon,” he said to himself. Soon, but how soon? It was a question he never had the answer to. Then he was off to bed early, so he could get up in time for work tomorrow. 

New day, same sun. “I am an upstanding citizen and a model employee.” This was the mantra he stuck to every morning. It was good to have a mantra. He waved to his neighbor. She waved back. He turned to the right—still nobody home.

“He passed away,” she said. “What a shame. Nobody ever knew him.”

“These things happen,” he replied.

Another ride on the metro, another elevator to his cubicle, and another stack of papers. Then it was home for another frozen dinner. 

Over and over…

Consistency was nice – nothing ever threw him off his rhythm, and that was the way he liked it. That was until one day he coughed, and a spray of red caught onto his sleeve. Blood. His. [i]Am I getting sick?[/i] He thought. [i]No, it’s probably nothing. Just seasonal allergies is all.[/i] He couldn’t allow himself to get sick – he had a quota after all, and he never fell behind. Today would be no different.

[center]“I am an upstanding citizen and a model employee.”[/center]
He continued his days working and working, never noticing his skin turning pale. Working and working, shutting out the sounds of his coughs. Working and working, his breaths becoming heavy. One day he would come home, never realizing that he would never wake up again. Taygete would never stop for him, nor would it ever remember the man in cubicle 612.

[center][i]
What a shame. Nobody ever knew him.
But then again… these things happen.[/i]
[h3][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7gJRAzqK7yg]♫[/url][/h3][/center]