Yearning for sleep, you struggle to the surface of consciousness.

You stagger out of bed, shower, brush your teeth, comb your hair and put on a shirt and tie. Dressed.

In the kitchen you make tea. Fry two eggs, toast bread and slather it with butter and jam. You relish a delicious break from the relentless morning routine. Too short.

You are late. Shrugging on your coat as you run down the street to the bus stop. Cars splash in puddles driving by. Your glasses are hard to see out of as big raindrops splatter against them. Just in time.

You step on the bus, a heated mass of bodies greet you. Ugh. You grab hold of an overhead strap as the bus lurches forward. A greasy-haired man falls back against you. He doesn't smell good. The bus stops one block later. More people press their way in. This sucks.

The bus creeps down town at a nauseatingly slow pace. You forgot your earbuds so you are forced to listen to the various conversations around you. One woman is talking about her dying mother. You don't want to hear the details but you can't not listen. You hear about the mother's personal care. You try to focus on any other conversation around you but this woman is louder than all of them. Finally, a baby starts crying and while it grates on your nerves it is a relief from the woman's story. You get off the bus rattled and irritated.

You trudge four more blocks to work. The bottom of your pants are wet. You take the elevator to the twenty-second story. You walk to your cubicle and take off your coat. You sit down at the computer and start working on reports. The boss walks by agitated telling everyone to hurry up. You say, "yes sir," but you think f*ck you. You do the reports at your own pace. Finally it's lunch time. You didn't bring lunch and buy a limp salad in the cafeteria. You wash it down with a lukewarm diet coke. The day drags on.

The report swims in front of your face as you nod off at your desk. You get up to go to the bathroom to prevent falling asleep at your desk. The hours crawl by. The person in the cubicle next to yours is flatulent and odors drifts into your workspace.

Your boss has long since disappeared when finally the clock strikes five and the rest of the office leaves. Like cattle they pack the elevators down to the lobby. It is raining again and you trudge to the bus stop.

You arrive home exhausted. A frozen pizza is all the cooking you have energy for. Opening a beer can affords you the first pleasure you have experienced since breakfast. Ahhh.

You watch more Netflix than you should and eat more pizza than you should. Your stomach feels bloated, eyes heavy.

Yearning for sleep, you finally drift off into blissful unconsciousness.

______

A/N: Exactly 500 words divided 10,20,30,40,50,100,100,50,40,30,20,10

Because I like neat patterns.