Nine to Five

There's a clock ticking in the distance. The rhythmic tick tock enunciates the  tenseness in the room. Fingers go at keyboards and phones ring. Sometimes it is the classic ring of the land-line and sometimes it is a popular song. We are young at heart but we must conform to the wishes of the older ones. A conversation drifts in from the room next door. Someone is unhappy, raised voices. The door opens and this symphony is paused as the visitor is surveyed. A quick walk to the laminating machine. He poses no threat. The symphony is resumed.

A low laugh, a private joke. There is whispering and a second laugh. Now everyone wants a piece of the joke. The comedian shares the joke and we all laugh. It is a beautiful sound. We may be prisoners of a capitalist market but our hearts are free. The routine has been halted as we enjoy the joke. It is a good joke that will be relayed after work in bars and homes. The clock continues to tick. It is a sound that has become a part of us, like the beating of our hearts. It is a consoling sound and we almost miss it when we leave. We almost miss it.