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Under Pressure (Day 84)

Gerald winced at the indistinct shouting coming from next door. He closed his eyes, hands balling into fists until he was ready to march over there and give them tit for tat. He had begun to stand when the shouting had cut off, and he sank back into his office chair with some measure of relief. What had the doctor said about having high blood pressure?

Crumpled paper filled his right hand. He looked at it in confusion. Where had that come from? Realization seemed to hang just out of reach until he saw bold lettering that read L-S. That’s right he had been working on the L-SAR report when all the commotion had started. What was going on over there anyway? With no answers nor apologies forthcoming, he set about trying to smooth out the crinkles, sliding his heavy palm down the paper’s face.

Less than five minutes passed before the shouting picked up again, this time much louder, more aggressive and completely intolerable.

He picked up a crimson-backed stapler, gripping it tightly, and stomped out the door.

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