“Warmth, a deep gratification she feels secured in his perfect locked embrace. His touch makes her alive again, like a perfect calm ocean rejuvenated after suffering an excruciating stormy night. The heat of this intense proximity makes her ease down all pains of her life. Like a dead leaf bestowed its life again by locking it into its branches and giving a meaning to its existence. Even though he was up early morning with the sunshine he wouldn’t move from his place intentionally, enjoying a perfect morning delight in his arms. He could lay back and hold on to this pleasure for hours, his morning starts with her and he ends his day with her.”
“Hmmm…” Maxwell Rodger hummed while scribbling in his diary.
“And there you are, you slacker.. Past three calls have been sent for you to make just 3 files reach onto my desk.. bloody hell.. just look at you.. dashed in oblivion..” barked Mr. Ford Waugh after splatting a glass full of water on Maxwell’s face. Maxwell was scandalized enough to snap himself out of writing his “never turning out to be.. Not so real but a fantasy” diary entry, which he was trying to pen down since a month but when he tried he couldn’t finish it. His life was as fragmented and incomplete as his diary entries or say ..fantasies.
Mr. Waugh is Manager in Foodie’s Bite restaurant and Maxwell assists him. “How many times you have to be told to get back to your work as soon as the break is over”, he shouted over Maxwell.. an hour after the break and waiting for past four hours for the files of the annual presentation in Foodie’s .
He dropped the glass on his desk, almost breaking it. He shouted again on his face pointing towards the files on Maxwell’s desk, holding the edge with his other hand “You can delay to make these files to my desk but your resignation letter will be delivered on your desk within a blink of your eye.. and let me make this very clear.. this is your last call Mr. Maxwell Rodger and sweep a space in your mind for a fact that if you are thrown out of Foodie’s you won’t be less than a rant to dwell in Miami. I will make sure that no wealthy bastard would deploy you into his venture.” Done with his crap Mr. Waugh headed back to his cabin, slamming the door on Maxwell’s miserable damp face.
Thinking of his sorrowful and feeble life he ruffled his damp hair and combed gently with his hands. He let out a sigh in despair and looked at his thrown away black diary in which he scribbled his urge for a true and selfless love and his favorite Blue Schneider K 15. Thankfully neither his diary was harmed nor his pen was broken. He bent over and picked both and kept them safely on his chair, to his beautiful reveries and virtual world there was no room for his real life bitter torments which he have to agonize everyday without even a break of a nano sec. He doesn’t wanna even give an eye to his now vandalized desk. That one tumbler now lie blatantly after rolling for a while, for that very moment he felt like throwing it hard on the front closed door so that at least that was the thing he could utterly destroy.
After an hour of struggle of renewing the affected blotted papers in the files, Maxwell picked the telecom and called for the helping staff. After a while Reg knocked,
“Sir, May I come in?”.
“You don’t have to be formal with me okay? Come on in” Maxwell said along with running hands through his hairs and leaning on his desk after having a good lay back on his chair.
“Make these files to him” Maxwell handed over those explosives i.e. the three great files to him. Sensing the situation, Reg comforted him, “Feel free to share Bud, I am here and always will be”. Maxwell looked in his eyes and after a pause Maxwell said, “…Nothing” with a sore resilient voice. He checked the clock, it was 5:07. Clicking the shut down button from start menu, he closed the flap of his laptop, unplugged the charger. He stood from the chair, collected his stuffs and packed his laptop satchel and made himself all set to leave the office. Maxwell stopped at the doorstep of his cabin turned to Reg standing nearby and tapped on his shoulder, his only talking buddy in the office or say only a friend in his life. They exchanged lifeless smiles again and Maxwell then finally left.