I once worked at the Strand Bookstore doing backroom stuff like putting on pricing stickers and shrink-wrapping books all day. As anyone who worked there during the 2000s can attest, the place had no air conditioning and it sweltered. Our lives were all pretty aimless and nobody spoke very much.
One day after work, I went home and wrote this.
(Edited by Blackout Writers Group and Eleanor Katari)