What’s on my desk, and in my head
When you draw what’s on your desk, almost on automatic pilot because you know all that stuff by heart without even looking, all sorts of things go through your head. Like this story …
The hidden life of stationery
And then, the calculator seized power. The stapler managed to hold things together for a little while longer, and the eraser remained under the radar as long as the pencils played their bridging role. But once the highlighters made their grand entrance, their time was up, too. The scissors were assigned new responsibilities, and after the restructuring, the authoritarian stamp—along with its loyal acolyte, the ink pad—found itself burdened with even more work. The Post-its never shook off their frivolous reputation and ended up discarded in the overflowing trash can. Only a miracle could save the blank sheet of paper from a brutal encounter with the machine and a painful perforation. A grim fate in the ring binder seemed inevitable.
Tension in the office reached its peak. The phone could ring at any moment, triggering the ignition sequence. But the silence lingered. Oppressive, unbearable silence.
Sophie tapped her fingernails against her coffee cup. Claire twirled a Post-it between her fingers, as if flipping a coin to decide their fate.
And then he appeared. Hands in his pockets, sleeves rolled up—giving the impression he was ready for action, though everyone knew that wasn’t going to happen. His presence alone was enough. Without a word, he steered the situation, shifting the very air in the room.
“As long as there’s still coffee,” Claire muttered, crumpling the Post-it in her fist.
All eyes instinctively turned to the one true savior: the coffee machine.
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