12 P.M

A small oasis in the middle of the desert of the day
Ham on white bread with a side of fruit and chips
Fuel for the rest of the day
The break room air is filled with the chit chat of gossip
Some chatter of the latest news
And splattered with an inappropriate joke
Bill from accounting chews with his mouth open
Half his lunch spilling from his mouth
The obnoxious smell of Jill’s burnt popcorn flows from the microwave
As the clock ticks, this false sense of freedom comes to an end
The clock ticks and slowly I’m dragged
Back to my desk

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