He seats in his cubicle, staring at the computer screen. His gaze far reaching into the oblivion and beyond. The screen displayed the half finished report. His hand on the keyboard is writing gibberish. Somewhere in his mind, he got lost. Or stuck. Possibly both.
"This train of thought is going nowhere," he said to himself. Little did he know that he is no longer the master of his thoughts, and the 'train' now is taking him everywhere. He is going for a joy ride. Or sorrow ride. Possibly both.
The matter is, you are what you are made of inside. Inside, he is hollow. Now he is nothing more than part of the system. Or slave. Possibly both.
His soul lies somewhere in the passage of time. Back during the day when he was happily spending time in the cyber cafe, shooting off terrorist. Or counter terrorist. Possiby both.
No regret. No problem. But he was satisfied. Or contented. Possibly both.
He is tired. He just want to sleep. Or die. Possibly both.
On the positive note, maybe he just wish that his old self dead. Because nobody want to die, right?Or living his life soulless. Definitely, both.
*it's 530 already, so good to be going home to the one dear to you ;)