A little thing I wrote while at work. The air is cold and crisp as the sun just ever so slightly peeks over the horizon; a new day has begun. I have on my best shirt coupled with my only tie as I cross the street to board the train. The commuters are silent, no one dares to speak on the morning commute. I look around, I notice the unique demographics of the morning train rider. You have the old, the young and me. I fit no where, really. Just moving amongst the system. Young, yet old. Lively, yet defeated by the demands of modern society. I see it, my palace, forged by iron and marble in the name of our corporate god. I leave the train and head to the coffee shop. I enter the line, its long, as it always is in the morning. The crowd here isn't much different than that of the trains; tired. I make my way out of the coffee shop with my daily ritual in hand. I walk past hurried folk, who barley stop to tie their own shoes let alone exchange gratuities with one and the other. I enter my grand 50 story palace, as I do everyday; uneventfully. The elevator takes me to my floor, and I exit to head to my cubicle. There it is, the 5x5 where I spend the better part of the day for the majority of the week. 'Isn't she grand' I think to myself as I approach my works space, my throne, if you will. I sit down and finish my morning communion and toss the styrofoam cup in the bin. Now its time for me to turn on my computer, the master of this domain. The day proceeds as it does like usual. The computer preaching its never-ending serenade of memos and e-mails, the powers that be prowling over the cubicle walls with their menacing stares, and of course me working and repenting to my corporate god. The day finally ends, after nine hours of key strokes and eye sores. I proceed to the train. Its much more lively now, people are happy. They can enjoy themselves once more. I exit the train and enter my apartment. I sit down and turn on the television; its commercials. Now I wait till tomorrow.