A Short Story (Part one)

Thumbing the pages of a well worn directory, eyes tired and sore from the endless searching, referencing and correcting, not sure how much one person could suffer in an office hours day.

The endless drudgery was catching her unawares as the clock slowly ticked, ever slower it seemed to that sacred moment of freedom, when the beurocracy would lie in wait for another day, some times there was hope that day would not arrive, Every day be a weekend a Saturday or even better a Sunday watching the faithfull in their ever diminishing numbers, heading in the direction of the church bell.

Ding.

But today escape from weekday torture was not available. Although 5 pm had come and subsequently slipped under the exit door.

Dong.

Only dust and discomfort remained.

To be continued