Wain

Packed office. Laminate coverings over all the desks. Loads of paperwork bundled onto follies as people flow through the building.

A blackboard with a permanent wash of white chalk under changing calendar dates. The soft hum of the quadruple stacked printer. It’s lime network light flashing like a firefly.

The soft plume of steam from the humidifier on the table I’ve never seen anyone sit at.

NHK being turned on at noon as the bell sounds. My early dismissal from the crowded office— where the seating arrangement feels like freighters in the ocean. Clogged shipping lanes and slow passage.

The shuffled steps of workers— if by principle refusing to stride. A dip of the head and quick steps. A bounce to counteract the tiny gait— like a subservient tip toe.