A Keyboard Grows In Your Cubicle

A keyboard can grow quite lonely in the absence of the surly office worker attached to it. The days and sometimes even weeks its temporary owner can spend away from it over the holiday break leaves it ample time to grow worn with disuse, an extra coating of loneliness delivered to it via the film of dust piling on.

And yet, when its assigned office worker returns, the keyboard feels no love, remembers that, “Oh yes, aging John or Jill (these are the fraternity and sorority-oriented names many office workers tend to possess in Midtown) has no love for me.” Then it realizes just how good it had it on its own. For there is no better armor in the office for both inanimate and semi-live objects than isolation.