Unused boxes in an empty office.
The executives huddled in the corner office together.
The meeting rooms are all booked.
The Sherriff’s car parked out front.
The whispers and mutterings of the early birds.
The lack of coffee in the break room.
Then it is your turn.
The call from the boss for an unscheduled meeting.
“Come down to my office for a minute.”
Footsteps unwieldy as you comply,
Heart racing nearly as fast as your thoughts.
Gallows humor amongst those not called,
accompanies stares and sympathetic looks.
Dead Man Walking.
Former co-workers paying last respects to the chosen.
The breath you let out,
that you didn’t know you held in.
Closing the cardboard lid on another office,
summed up neatly in an entry on a resumé.
The real anxiety waits until you’ve left,
to ambush you at home in the middle of the week.
Your routine was shattered,
when you find yourself buying milk
in the store on a Wednesday afternoon.
