End of Day

exhaustion |igˈzôs ch ən|
1 a state of extreme physical or mental fatigue
2 the action or state of using something up or of being used up completely

My feet hurt.

There were a lot of things that I want to rant about that time, but synchronising both my brain and tongue was such a hard thing to do when I couldn’t even support my own weight. Sliding down against the wall, I closed my eyes and sighed as I finally slumped on the floor. The loose tee I randomly picked in the morning stuck on my back. Another drop of sweat rolled down my neck – not the first time in the last ten hours, adding another ounce of annoyance to the already unbearable itch to jump into a swimming pool somewhere out there.

The temperature was high, the air humid and unmoving in the room filled with the stench of terpentine. Anyone who possesses conscience wouldn’t expect anyone to do any kind of manual labour in this kind of atmosphere but my workmates don’t call this place a hellhole for no reason.

‘You okay?’

Eyes jerked open, I looked up and realised the door had been ajar the whole time – standing by it a surprised face drenched in sweat and the usual clipboard in his hand. My mouth opened but no words came out. My head started throbbing again as the tip of my toes turned numb. Any answer would be futile – “no” would sound like a drama queen yet “yes” would be a lie. So I swallowed and took a deep breath, bumping the back of my head against the wall in silent exhaustion.

He seemed to get my drift.

Closing the door behind him, he proceeded to the only desk in the room and sat down with a soft creak. I glanced his way. He leaned back in the black office chair, suddenly letting go of the stiff posture people like him maintained all the time – something out of place in the peculiar kind of crowd I work with.

‘Are you?’ I finally replied with a croaked voice.

All I got was a sarcastic laugh, the sound instantly tugging at the corner of my lips.
Who would’ve thought?

He might be one of us after all.


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