Weekly Writing Challenge: Person, Place, Thing

Prompt from here.

He sat on the other side of the table, his tired face and pale skin matching his messy black hair. There were eye bags under his usually-glinting-with-mischief eyes that were staring at the laptop in front of him. Probably an aftereffect of last night’s two cups of espresso. I’ve told him how crazy he’d be to take on those at midnight, but all he did was roll his eyes and pull out another stick of cigarette. The dark blue blazer he was wearing now laid forgotten on the back of his chair, revealing his rolled-up shirt sleeve wrapping his skinny arms. He stopped for about three seconds, taking a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Everything I saw in him screamed out the extreme pressure of his work. For such a young age, he was doing quite well.

The light in the next room flickered. I looked away from the young man just to realise how empty the office had become. There was only another girl from the marketing department sitting at the other table, all three of us producing the same sound of fingers dancing across the laptops’ keyboards madly. Nobody talked. It was some kind of unwritten rule to not talk while working. I have always disliked such stiff notions – if the white walls and ceiling and furnitures could talk, they would probably tell the same. Even the carpets, but they might speak in Persian so I wouldn’t understand even if they started ranting about how silent this office is.

As if it read my mind, my phone on the table rang. The young man only glanced up at me for less than a second, but there was an amused smile on his face. Apparently Bee Gees’ “Staying Alive” echoing in the almost-empty room alongside the tiny chimes of phone strap decoration bells sounded funny to his ears. Trying to hide the sheepish smile on my face, I looked back at my old Galaxy SII and saw a name across the heavily-scratched touchscreen. I sighed and slid my finger across the red square panel to reject the call. Again he looked up from his laptop and raised his eyebrows as if indirectly asking what that was all about. I merely glared back at him and stuck out my tongue. He snickered and shook his head before going back to his working mode.

Welcome to overtime party.

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