Pretty Little Procrastinator

Loners,

I’ve been sitting at my desk all morning, procrastinating. I come to my office less and less. This space once made sense when I was busy with interviews and meetings, but now that we’re winding down and entering a more creative phase, it doesn’t work for me at all. Outside, in the alley, I hear garbage trucks, dispatching warnings with their horns and sending cars reversing back to the road. The empty lot across the way is littered with rotting garbage and debris. All day, I hear screams of fury and despair. Last week, a pigeon flew headfirst into the window as I stood pouring water into the plant pots. I fantasize about a silent room, so quiet that the absence of sound itself becomes deafening.