I’ve been investigating something recently. I’ve been noticing an absurd amount of patterns. It started with the alphabet cereal I had this morning. I poured myself a modest bowl and almost every single one was an “O”! There were a few “C”s and “U”s, but nothing else. A”Q” did leave the box, but it missed the bowl, so I discounted it. Then, on my way to work I noticed that almost all the major papers were reporting the same story! Some of them even used the same picture for their front page spread. I checked a few and found that, although the content of the stories was much the same, the writing was definitely different across the board. Upon reaching the office, I hung up my coat and hat (similar but distinctly different from the ones already on the rack) and made my way to my desk. Upon sitting down, I noticed my third pattern of the day. All the desks were practically identical. They were aligned differently and their owners had adorned them in a myriad of ways, but they were undeniably the same in design and form. I watched my co-workers with suspicion for the rest of the day. They fucked my observations up, the coffee-swilling bastards.

-Alice

The fire started small. It was just a little flame on a candle. It burned down to the end and caught some of the papers on my desk. They burned slowly and the desk caught after that. That’s what really got the fire going. After that the rest of the room caught quickly. Everything was gone then. All burnt up in the fire. I stood looking at the burnt out ruins and wondered what to feel. I wondered whether I should mourn for what I lost. Whether I should care about all my possessions. Or whether I should go with the idea that it’s “just stuff” and pretend I’m a better person. But that’s not what I felt. There were things in there that meant things to me. I cared about what was in that room. Some of those things I cared about more than others, but all of it at least meant something. All of those objects were a part of my life. They defined parts of me and showed who I was to the outside world. A tear rain from my eye as I remembered it all. I wish I could have saved it. I wish I could have rushed through the flames and grabbed as much as I could. Instead she did. And she didn’t make it.

-Alice

I’d been drinking for a while. My head was rocking from side to side as I tried to adjust my balance. It really wasn’t working. The rocking was keeping my head from just falling straight forwards and hitting my desk. If I concentrated hard enough, maybe I could be sober. Or at least more sober than I was. I didn’t feel like it though. Instead I preferred to sit back and feel the alcohol flow through my veins. Infecting and poisoning my body. I liked to imagine it running through my bloodstream. Coating the insides of my veins and trickling down into the capillaries. I was feeling the buzz. The supposed warmth that these toxins bring to our bodily systems. Isn’t it strange how poisoning ourselves feels so good? How this depressant can sometimes be all that cares for us. I pushed my fingers into the top of my desk, steadying myself. I let out some unidentified noise of relaxation. I could vaguely make out my reflection in the polished surface. I wasn’t sure how I looked though. It wasn’t that good a mirror. My reflection was brown-tinged and blurry. It could’ve been anyone, really. It really didn’t do justice to how fucking sexy I am.

-Alice