Todd Feng Shuis His Cubicle

Todd places his stapler three paperclip lengths from his monitor. He breathes twice. He spreads three manila folders out in one of his desk drawers, corners peeking out to read the titles: Finances, Production, Distribution. It’s alphabetical starting with F. Todd sits back in his chair and eyes the ‘History of Flight’ calendar hanging to his right. Slightly tilted. He breathes heavier.
Quickly, Todd adjusts he calendar. The February airplane straightens. He returns to his chair. Three long breathes. He closes his eyes.

Al from accounting peeks his head into the cubicle. “You alright, Todd?”
Todd breathes.

“Looks like he finally did it,” All continues, fakely calling out to the office. “Todd has mastered the ancient art of relaxation!”

With an air of respect, Al glances down the row of cubicles. No bosses. He takes out a cigarette and lights it. The smoke creeps slowly to the ceiling. Sprinkler system triggered.

The droplets at first don’t disturb anything. But soon the calendar has peeled off Todd’s wall and the 1920s biplane has soaked into a 1984 carrier jet. One or two sparks fly from the monitor. The stapler stays put.

That is, until the earthquake hits. The stapler bounces onto its side. A Richter scale 5.2 launches the desk drawers open, adjusting the files so the corners aren’t showing.

A wrecking ball crashes through an outer wall and flies behind Todd, Al jumping for the ground to avoid it. The desk drawer falls out, placing the files alphabetically backwards from D.

The electricity goes out, and Al feels his way passed Todd, heading toward the stairwell.

Todd sits in the dark, at his desk, feeling around until he finds the stapler again. He measures three paperclip lengths from his now-busted monitor and sets it back in line. Todd breathes twice.

Three times.