The Most Miserable Man on Earth
Thomas Kline was a man of few words and even fewer qualities.
He was average in just about every quality. Height, weight, looks, athletic qualities, IQ. To be frank, Thomas would do wonders for being an extra on film sets, because there wasn't a single portion of him that set him apart from the rest of the world.
Each morning, Mr. Kline awakens to his alarm clock, utterly alone and utterly miserable. He wears the same black slacks and brown dress shoes everyday, something that his ex wife would scold him on.
"They clash," she would say, but he never did mind. He only cared for his comfort, which was why he was alone now.
His commute to and from work was the bane of his existence. Bumper to bumper he would stare to the sea of red lights before him, wishing he was anywhere else but where he sat, but everyone who knew him could never see him leaving his dead end job, and the thought of Thomas going on a vacation sounded more like the punchline to a joke rather than reality.
He always arrived to the office 15 minutes before the clock would start, his father setting the tone for his work ethic in his youth. 'Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable!'
Setting foot into the office building he would B line right for his cubicle, giving a nod of acknowledgement to his coworkers, exchanging morning greetings and small talk. The reason why he hated Mondays wasn't because he had to return to his desk, it was because he would have to hear about everyone else's weekend.
"Oh my little boy, Jimmy, he made it onto little league!"
"-And then my wife has the nerve to invite our neighbors over to the cook out! They still owe us for ruining our law mower!"
"Haha, yeah, It was a good weekend for me. Nailed some broad Friday night. She was something else but not girlfriend material if you know what I mean, Tommy."
Thomas loathed Mondays almost as much as the job he had, or the car he drove, or the place he lived. There wasn't much on this earth that was spared of Thomas's judgment.
Save for June Weathers.
He wouldn't say that he loved her, no, that was a bit much, but he knew he didn't hate her, and that was more than the rest of his peers could say for themselves.
He sat adjacent from her, and where his corner of the world was bland and plain, hers was bright and pure. The only decor he had in his space was memos for work, where June had every inch of her cube covered with photos or catchy quotes, a Mickey Mouse bobble head next to her mouse.
She looked his way and smiled, giving a silent wave. Thomas swore he felt his heart flutter and he returned the same.
He prepared to ask a question that had been tearing at him for weeks when his least favorite person in the office hovered over her.
"Hey, you know last Friday was kinda fun, we should do that again sometime.."
Thomas swiveled back to face his monitor, swearing something underneath his breath.
He hated this place more than he could care to tell.