|I remember rain falling that Monday. In the morning, the sun shone brightly before the clouds rolled in. I even remember putting my sun visor down during my commute. Once I got to work, the rain began to patter the pavement. I trudged inside.
I sat at my desk and glanced at the next cubicle. An empty desk station stared back at me. My best friend, Jason, and co-worker of twelve years left for another job on Friday and moved to California. I thought of the many good discussions we’d had. How the Knicks blew another game. How the Yankees were full of overpriced prima donnas. How we’d frequent the cannoli shop down the street and laugh through lunch.
My fingers rested upon my keyboard, but no epiphanies came. They often don’t when writing software manuals, but today there was no motivation. I stared out the window at the raindrops. Puddles dotted the parking lot below – like gray dots on a large gray animal.
I spoke to Elaine a few times in editing, but she was all business. I thought of mentioning the Knicks, but she wouldn’t care.
Lunch came at the normal time, but I didn’t feel much like eating. I somehow wandered down to the cannoli shop where Marcus hung behind the counter. I ordered my usual ham on croissant and chocolate chip cannoli. I sat in the usual spot -- alone.
The afternoon dragged on as my whiskers displayed their typical five o’clock shadow. Jason would joke about me never shaving. I’d rib him about being bald. So many times we’d banter back and forth then write furiously to meet a deadline.
As if in a dream, I drove home in the rain. The only thing I thought was I wonder how long this storm will last?
Flash Story Must contain: Whiskers, dream, window
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