The sound of a post-modern style clock ticking away on the wall above a sea of cubicles was only met by the click-clack of keys and the occasional cough. She gazes up; 4:01PM, the last hour of the day and it always felt like a week. A long, bored fill sigh passes her sweet red lips. It had been a day of one meeting after another and she was only there as an observer, a very bored observer. Soon that late afternoon feeling was starting to hit her hard; eye lids like sand bags and he focus almost completely gone.
