Rather than attend to the multitude of messages awaiting his reply, Ernest allowed his mind to wander regarding the scene before his eyes. Many thoughts occurred to him. We’re having an earthquake. The sun is exploding. Wait, the sun has exploded, and I’m just now seeing it. I’ve gone mad. This coffee has gone terribly, horribly bad.

He was broken from his solitary contemplation by the voice of the woman in the next cubicle, “What the crap?” Similar statements rippled through the maze of workspaces followed quickly by heads popping up from behind partitions. Though his fellows all moved with slow accord towards the window, Ernest remained in his seat.

Suddenly, those emails seemed much more inviting. Realistically, who wouldn’t prefer a bit of drudgery to cataclismic events of a universal scale? Torn between curiosity and the cold comfort of denial, he sipped his coffe, as he had decided it wasn’t bad at all. Drugged maybe, but not bad.