Someone Comes In

Someone comes in

every
day

and walks into the

empty,

dark side of my office.
They do this
every morning,
and they stand there,

confused,

turning in slow circles,
on the

other

side of my desk.
“Hello?”
they call.
It is a new someone,
each time.
“Can I help you?”
I ask.
They seem

startled

by me
as though I have suddenly
appeared.
Theyexitquickly,
perhaps not having expected me,
and never return.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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