[ WP ] You live in a world where every conversation is a cliche . You are the only one that notices this .

Monday. 8:55. Hell. 
 
 I waited and watched the numbers descend all too slowly. 
 
 4 
 
 3 
 
 2 
 
 1 
 
 As the doors opened, James appeared to my right and beat me to the lift. 
 
 We stood, trying to avoid eye contact, knowing that if our gazes were to meet, we would inevitably be drawn into a conversation neither one of us wanted to have. The three mirrored walls convinced me that my shoes were now the most interesting thing in the universe. I studied them until the doors finally opened again, where James again was literally one step ahead of me. Before we parted ways to our separate offices he turned to me with a look of urgency, 
 
 `` Not bad weather we've been having, eh, Burke?'' 
 
 I shrugged and hurriedly made for the safety of my plasterboard prison. 
 
 I sat at my desk and logged on, ready to do the morning sweep of emails, news, Reddit, Facebook, and all the others that meant work did n't actually start until around 9:30. 
 
 10:00am was approaching when a knock at the door startled me. Katie, my line manager, stood at the entrance, folders in hand, waiting for me to make the first move. 
 
 `` Morning Katie.'' 
 
 `` How was your weekend?'' 
 
 `` Same old, watched some TV, did some housework. You?'' 
 
 `` Was n't long enough, but I ca n't complain. Did you watch the football on Sunday?'' 
 
 I'd never been asked about sports at work before. I was taken aback, but managed to formulate a response that neither condescended or bored. 
 
 `` Yeah, Chelsea were n't bad to waste an after on, but City let me down on my accumulator for £220.'' 
 
 `` Unlucky. Well, just wanted to see how you were. Catch up later, yeah?'' 
 
 `` Yeah, no worries.'' 
 
 No more than 30 seconds later, I was halted by another knock. 
 
 Steve. 
 
 `` Working hard or hardly working, eh, Burke?'' 
 
 `` What?'' 
 
 He walked off without another word. Confused, I carried on not working for around another hour when I decided that my bladder had bested me, and I needed to brave the long hallway down to the bathroom. 
 
 I passed several desks on my way to the loo, and each desk's owner had something to say, like a rehearsed prank that I was n't in on. 
 
 `` Nice weather we've been having.'' 
 
 `` Happy Monday.'' 
 
 `` Do n't talk to me until I've had my morning coffee'' 
 
 *What? I was n't planning on a conversation with you. * 
 
 `` How's the family?'' 
 
 *Huh, I live alone. You know that. * 
 
 I picked up my pace as the statements were fired at me left and right. 
 
 `` How about that Walcott at the weekend, did you watch the game?'' 
 
 `` Working hard or hardly working?'' 
 
 `` Working hard or hardly working?'' 
 
 `` Hardly working, working hard, eh Burke, eh?'' 
 
 *What the fucking fuck is happening? * 
 
 Quicker, I progressed from a quick walk to an almost-jog, then from an almost-jog to a full sprint. I turned left past the men's room straight to the open window at the end of the corridor, and broke through with little effort. 
 
 I turned in freefall to face the window I had just ejected myself from. 
 
 I was met with the faces of every damned co-worker I had ever had to come into contact with. 
 
 Above the rush of wind charging past my ears, I could hear them... 
 
 `` Working hard... 
 
... hardly working... 
 
... worki-'' 
 
 Ahhh, quiet.
