Our computer lab is crowded. People, people's bags, people's tiredness and anxiety, the fog. Tension is high. Being wet puts everyone on edge. Unlike many of our guests, I have somewhere warm, dry, and happy to go this afternoon, and something to do with my evening that puts me one step ahead of sleepy unhappiness. I am unsettled, but ok. I have already listened to two arguments while leaning over the copier, pulling the forgotten office code from the muscle memories in my right hand. I have rushed back and forth from my office to the copier five times. I am busy. The copy machine smells warm and sour. Our paper cutter could be sharper. And I've finally figured out the fax machine. Wearing a button up shirt helps.

I walk down the hall again. Someone is hissing into the telephone at the corner. He f***ing knows he told her...
There are 10 people hunched over the blue lit computers. Someone else is trying to upload their resume. The computers are so slow. I pause. Right in front of me, the last guest, another damp, steaming man in blue, is on Windows Paint. His screen is blue and green, a picture of an almost-factory, smoke billowing from three slanting blue smokestacks into a green sky. He clicks, etching in white on the blue foundation - "Dig Deep".

Do I need to tie this up with a bow? He clicks off and goes back to gmail. I make another copy and try to burn off the fog with multiple cups of tea and honey and his smoky, cyber-drawing tags along all day.