Closing Time - A Short Story

THOM LOOKED at the clock to see that it was already half past five. Goodness gracious it was late.

He rubbed tired fingers over his glazed-over eyes and looked down at all of the paperwork he still had to go through. A pile taller than Mount Everest that was all begging to be read and sorted through. Too much work and so little time, what was he supposed to do with all of it in the usual nine-to-five environment? That was just absolute insanity.

He set the pen down on the pile of work he had completed for the day and sighed. It could all wait over the weekend. He had a life to live after all, and how was he supposed to get all of it done if he didn’t rest?

It could all wait. He had done a truckload of work already as it was; there was no reason to keep slogging overtime when the weekend awaited him. It would all still be there on Monday.

Thom yawned and turned off the lamp on his desk. His briefcase sat by the door and his jacket we slung over the back of a chair. He stood and grabbed the jacket, slinging it over his shoulder and slipping out the door with his briefcase in hand. The overhead light was shut off as he exited.

“See you, Margaret.” He said to the receptionist at her desk. 

MARGARET LOOKED up and nodded, poring over her own bit of paperwork—the last for the day—before she set it down and finished checking over it to be sure that she had done everything correctly. Maybe she was a little OCD, but efficiency never killed anyone. She kept her job because she was really good at her job; a little stressing over it was a good way to keep her job. That was her opinion. But, she also knew when it was time to quit, too much overtime could leave her brain so fried she couldn’t be of any earthly good—which was just about the worst state of existence there was. 

She glanced at the clock. Five thirty-five. Goodness, how the day flew by, it was like lunch break had just ended. In fact, she could still taste that tuna melt that had been so appetizing when she had unpacked it. Well, life really moves in the fast lane.

She set the paper in her stack and smiled. Looking at her list of appointments that had been so perfectly set out for Thom to look over later on—well, Monday.

Margaret looked up and saw Jeb the custodian mopping the floor—which you would think was his only job because that all she ever saw him doing—intent on his task. A single earbud was in his ear; the other one was dangling in the air.

“How’s it going there, Jeb?”

“Goin’ great, ma’am. Floors aren’t as bad as usual.”

“Good to hear.” She sighed and grabbed her purse from under her desk. “I’m gonna clock out, you have a good night, Jeb.”

He nodded; the sly grin he always gave her appeared. “You too, ma’am. See ya tomorrow.”

Margaret thought about her weekend and wondered what she was even supposed to do in that amount of time. 

KEITH SET a manila folder on his desk, sighing and going through a few last minute things on his computer. The Dell ran like a dream, but his fingers were too big for the tiny keyboard that he had. One of these days he was going to get another one. One made for a guy with hands the size of his, but that was on his wish list that one day he would visit and purchase some things off of.

One day. He thought. 

He finished typing out a hurried email to his client, who was giving him a hard time about some fees that simply could not be ignored.

“Look, lady. If you can’t pay the fees then stop wrecking your stupid car.” He muttered to nobody in particular but himself.

He was more than ready to get home, and once he hit “send” he shut down his email and the Pandora station that he had playing over the speakers. That was more than enough music and work for the day. He quickly shut the computer down and waited for Windows to shut down, logging him out, marking the end of the day.

Keith stood and grabbed the manila folder that he had to take home with him to look at over the weekend and started for the door, finally glad that the workweek was over. 

THOM FUMBLED with the keys for his SUV, trying to find the blasted thing among the office keys, which was near impossible. That was the thing that was so annoying about his position. So many keys! At least he had a good amount of employees to help him out. His employees were some of the most awesome people he knew though, he could never get tired of them. Not only that—talk about unity in the office! It was so wonderful that everyone was always on the same page. He had to admit, that he had the best staff of employees that ever existed. He would never get tired of them that much was for sure.

He quickly unloaded a brown jacket and briefcase into the back seat, along with a purse, a mop and a manila folder that he would have to look over on the weekend. 

From the collection: After Hours - 13 Strange Stories available at Smashwords.

About the Author 

Michael Wright lives in Alabama and has been writing speculative, suspense and supernatural fiction since his mid-teen years. He enjoys playing guitar, reading, writing, coffee, sushi, Christian theology and a good story.