I like to take the stairs to the new office.
One of the two doors to get into the stairwell is
locked, a moment of brief annoyance
that They want us behind desks all day
but won't allow that smallest bit of exercise.
But
the other door pushed cleanly
and all was forgiven.
well...not all...
As I mount the floors, giving due glance
to each exit as I pass,
I notice a sort of sad little rectangle
tiny red light gloomily blinking
a card reader of days gone by
still sadly lighting up
though its purpose is all but moot
--we weren't even told about them when we moved in
I like to think about what these readers could've been
what secrets they could've held
like a mad scientist lab hiding in plain sight
on the second floor of a nondescript office building
radioactive subjects and
secret formulas
whispering at the ignorance of every poor soul who walks by
unawares.
And then I realize
I've been standing stock still staring
at this little light
for a good ten minutes
and I'm already late for work.
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