Amber Burg's Blog

It was 8:20 in the morning. There was a chill in the air as I headed to work, something that I don’t normally do on Fridays or in the morning. My schedule requires me on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the afternoon.

It was quiet when my feet hit the red plush carpet. The row of florescent lights blindingly bright.The only sound to be heard was the steady hum of the air conditioner. The office was empty except for two people. It’s usually bustling with people in suit and ties or dresses. There was no clomping of men’s dress shoes hitting the tile floor in the hall. Not even the clicking of a high heeled black stiletto could be heard echoing down the hall. Today, it was empty, empty and dead.

The light oak desks had all the swivel chairs pushed in. Work lay in piles and phones sat on the desks soundless. The place had yet to come to life. The only movement was of the ceiling fan making its rounds around. Still, even it was at its normal pace of spinning.

The place normally had five to six people at minimum running around the office. Phones never stopped ringing. The finger’s of the head secretary kept the rhythm in the room with the steady click of her fingers off the keys.

Today it was not the same place as 1 pm on thursday.

This entry was posted on Friday, September 19th, 2014 at 9:24 am and is filed under Journalism. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.