Orlan checked his watch. Eight o’clock. Shit. Three hours till shift is up. Will this day ever end? It took nearly all his effort to avoid grabbing a sheaf of paper from the printer and start writing down everything that came to mind. The Fever had overcome him.

Calls came in, people came and went, tasks were assigned and completed.

Orlan checked his watch again. Nine o’clock. Dammit…

He logged onto the computer at work, tempted to feed his addiction, knowing that electronic eyes were watching. He checked the weather instead. The forecast showed rain for the rest of the week.

Ten o’clock. Shift-change had begun, and people were passing along their assignments to their assigned replacements. Almost there, thought Orlan to himself. His fingers itched.

Ten thirty. Ten forty-five.

Eleven o’clock. “Go home,” said the shift captain, but Orlan was already halfway out the door. He jumped on his bicycle and sped home.

The comforting glow of the laptop enveloped him, and he breathed a sigh of relief.