The problem is, I try to catch moments. Try to store them, save them for the cold winter months. My own personal butterfly caught in a jar, let it go free, or revel in its beauty till it dies naturally? But here I am at work for another fun filled exciting day of just sitting here. The nature outside provides a silent companion, while the smoke filled black hole of my office spins and churns, like indigestion. The walls are thickly stained from old cigarette smoke. This building was built before any notion of a ventilation system was conceived, and so in winter, the air sits and marinates. In this one room, 11 lungs filter and re-filter recycled air. The smells, soak into your pours. The kitchen that cooks food for all the schools in this town is only a hall way away. And on the greasy days the smell of fish and old oil mingle and settle in with the stale cigarette air.

BELCH

The old man who sits besides me continues to ambush me with surprise clouds of his own stench. For a polite nation, I wonder if burping out loud is considered proper office etiquette? Still, after a month of sitting next to him, and trying to smile past the sudden urges to vomit, I have built a small wall between us. Books, files, papers, really anything that was on my desk, now distinguishes the line (and hopefully the air), between our desks. Today has been different, and tomorrow will be different. But right now, I just want to be outside.