Snap.

"God, I hate this so much..." he thought, pressure beginning to build behind his eyes. That always happened at times like these. There was a certain tightening of the chest as well and his heart would always pound frenetically. They'd walk past him and smile those vacuous smiles of theirs and ask him how he was doing. The one with the navy blue tie would just say "Joooooones..." and then smile that car dealer grin of his and point at him as though it meant something--as though it meant that they were both in on some little secret that only two people who really understood each other would have, or like they had the same favorite basketball team. He didn't even know the bastard's name. This routine would be repeated several times today. And tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. Probably until Kingdom Come.
They'd pretend, for half of a second to truly understand that he was alive and he would pretend to do the same and then they'd walk on to their desks and both he and they would cease to exist at all until one of them made a trip to the water cooler.

"Hello, Dave."
"Sadie..."
"Dave, how are you doing?"
"Great...I'm good Brian. And yourself?"
"Jooooooones..."
"...Hi..."

Dave steadied himself, hands on the edge of his desk and tried to calm his breathing. The place smelled the same way that halogen lights looked and incessantly tapping keys sounded. He glanced here and there, all around his cubicle. He needed to focus on something--anything. He looked down then upon his mouse pad which had an image of a yellow filled circle with two black dot eyes and a crooked smile that read, "I love my job..." Dave was beginning to wonder if he ought not to get rid of the thing when he felt a warm, semi-sticky wetness in the palm of his left hand which began to trickle down his wrist as well.
Half of the clear plastic pen he had been holding remained in the red-soaked, white-knuckled fist, the other half most likey beneath his chair, near one of his feet and the rolling plastic wheels. There was now a considerable tear in the flesh of his thumb where one half or the other of the broken hard plastic pen's jagged edge had gouged in.
Standing up from his chair, Dave walked toward the men's bathroom with a surprising lack of hurry for one who was bleeding--almost absently. Reaching out with his uninjured hand to turn the doorknob, he entered, tugging at the knot of his necktie with the other and letting the door close behind him.