As the minutes crawl by they pause to laugh in my face before continuing into the slow pile they've created that will eventually be constructed into an hour that will in turn mock me before passing on. I've tried to distract myself with all manner of office games ranging from e-mailing other office inmates, sneaking games of sudoku, and writing about the slow progress of time.
Through the wall I hear the chattering of an angry call. No one else understands what they hear but it is my native tongue and my native ear wriggles and folds in to keep the words at bay.
Veins course sluggishly with caffiene that will eventually settle in the stomach lining that will slowly dissolve away into ulcer. Synthetic coagulated adrenaline brings an artificial sense of awake. In truth I won't be awake for hours. And they are slow to come.
I've been carefully questing through the internet and somewhere a server marks my passage. What I've discovered is that time is malleable. An experiment involving flashing LED's and dropping from vast heights allows you to see numbers the naked eye could not pick up in regular time.
What does all this mean? Nothing, only that time is currently an enemy of mine and I am ready for sleep.
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