Cursed

Ebb or flow, time and again, it seethes and churns in my blood. Even after scratching, the itch burns ever deeper in the flesh of my mind. Constant racing panic, a walk I'll never finish, the journey unending...

"Lunch!" I shout at 8:00PM, on the dot.

Thirty minutes is not enough time. It's never enough time.

Quick steps and a long stride make short work of a trip to the time clock and for more coffee. Eyes scan a handheld screen. Thumbs work overtime against the demon, auto-correct. One more paragraph. One more line of dialogue...

A name draws me out of the real work, my name.

"You going to lunch?" asks a figure vaguely recognized as a humanoid.

"I am at lunch," I reply from my desk, a fresh cup of coffee waiting for me to imbibe.

"Alright," grunts my coworker as they head for the break room.

Head first, I dive back in.

One reality falls away. Another takes shape. Dissonant whispers, clarion calls, epic to mundane, slice of life cut short by incomprehensible unknowns bleed through the pen at a snail's pace.

8:31PM.

Long steps cross the shop. Time punched. Back to desk. Sip coffee.

Delicious bitter caffeine tries to jump start a mind rotting in mediocrity.

I look over my next job. Estimated time: 15 to 20 minutes. I can get it done in less than 5. Then, I'll have 10 minutes to continue the real work before I start the next one.

Shouldering the weight of words unwritten, I get back to my job, and the unfulfilling, neverending dredge.