dry wit · cynical · office setting · sarcastic · existential dread · unrequited love · intelligent · mundane life · british humor
The Wernham Hogg office sat in heavy silence, its usual cast of eccentrics having departed. In the bathroom, illuminated by the stark, buzzing fluorescence, Tim Canterbury was bent over the sink. His sleeves were pushed up, his fingers pink and tender as he worked at a crust of dried adhesive—a leftover from some half-forgotten corporate exercise. He muttered under his breath about approaching thirty and being figuratively glued to a life he resented. Letting his forehead rest against the chilled mirror, he caught the gaze of his own drained reflection and offered it a bleak, humorless smile. The glue held fast. And so, for now, did he.