By William J. Roe

A dreamer stands amidst the insistent tapping of keys at the dozen different computers that play a humdrum background beat for what their life has become, lyrics filled with the dull intermingling of other lost dreamers shelling their souls for another day. Just another day, another listless afternoon where dreams slowly fade into the meaningless lines flying along their screens. As the dreamer stares aimlessly, when did the dreams fall away and monotony take hold, when did the stories of fire and brimstone start to hold a bitter hope. Another lost soul breaks the dreamers wandering, “Did you see the news, did they launch?” a voice inquires with a tremor, and in a few more moments the sky seems to fade into shadows, as the dreamers see an amber and crimson glow among the mustering clouds that fill the horizon. Tears start to stream as realization takes hold, forced calls become frantic, and the lines are long forgotten as dreamers fade away and the shadows of amber, crimson, and anguish overtake them.

“Are you going to stare out that window all day?” The voice inquires, snapping the dreamer back to the cacophony of typing keys and scattered conversations. “No, I was just lost in fall, can you believe it’s almost Halloween?” The dreamer replies in a raspy voice, turning back to the faint glow of a screen, a shiver coils down their back, it felt so real this time. “It really has felt like the year would drag on forever” comes in reply from a portly being with a closely shaved head, dressed in purple and khaki. The being cuts short these musings, as they ask with thinly veiled annoyance “Did you get that client scheduled for next week?”, and the dreamer replies “Of course, I’ll try and book things with a bit more of a gap if I can”, fully immersed again in the lines streaming across the screen. The dreamer lets numbness overtake them, as they struggle through their tasks, as time slowly whittles away both at the clock and themselves, with a growing dread itching away across mind. Dreams linger on the moments of hope; One more day, one more application, one more interview, one more damned lottery ticket, somehow it will be ok. Though, as the gleam of the sun starts to wane through the blinds and the glass around them, dreams seem to fade away once more, another rejection letter, another interview only attended by someone with a dream, another losing ticket, what dreamers wouldn’t do for a bit of gold in their life as the gleam of amber and crimson hues catch their eye, and amongst the pained silence in the absence of chittering office conversations, a whispered voice speaks up with a tremor “Did you hear the news?”, as the lights seem to fade to shadows. Never enough time.