There was a feeling that was welling up beneath his gruff exterior. This would be the last day that he would play by their rules and be subject to their whims.
It was noon on a Friday. They always fire on a Friday - gives you a weekend to "cool your head".
The feeling grew. All else seemed to haze over.
Stanley woke up as if from a daze with his key in the door of his poorly aging accord. He gave a sheepish look around the lot - "how long have I been standing here?" he thought.
Getting in he let out a larger than normal sigh for leaving work and pulled out of the lot.
He caught himself driving the same route he always drove home.
He fought the feeling.
Soon he was in his neighborhood and saw himself driving to his apartment building like he was having an out of body experience.
The calming routine of winding through the park basement caused a moment of clarity.
He gained some ground against the feeling.
He knew what he had to do - he hopped out of the car and into the elevator. Today would be the last day.
Hearing a familiar tune he realized he had been humming the whole ride back. His key still in his hand the doors opened and he trudged through the shag carpeting in the hallway to his room.
He was comforted by the familiar sound of his key in the lock.
He gained another inch against the feeling.
The door squeaked open.
