It's 7:45 pm and I'm still sitting at my desk, hunched over my keyboard, slack-jawed and bleary. It's been one of those days. Yet, rather than fleeing the building at my first opportunity, I seem compelled to remain at my desk doing nothing worthwhile. Unless you consider exacerbating serious eye strain worthwhile. My office, and specifically my cubicle, has some strange magnetic quality - no, more like gravitational pull - that acts over immense distances to gradually draw me ever closer, spiraling me into the vortex. We're talking quantum level stuff where time slows down even as I'm torn asunder and sucked into a singularity so massive that there is no escape.
That's the only explanation I can come up with to why I'm still slouched here, squinting at my screen, eating Cheetos and listening to the janitor's approaching vacuum, rather than slouching at home, squinting at my TV, eating Doritos and watching Temptation Island 3.
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