Greg was so caught up in his work that he felt like a rat in a tiny grey cage. The only thing he could think of was "got to get it done" or "it's due today" Every five minutes you'd see him checking his papers and throwing them in a silver waste basket. Then he'd stare out the long skinny window trying to think of what to write.
"I wanted to change the world," thought Greg, "but I can't even make my deadline. I haven't made a difference to anyone in the whole ten years I've worked here. The room seemed even darker and more depressing as as a storm cloud passed in front of the window.
Suddenly, Greg spun around in his chair and started to write. "Finally, success" he thought as jotted down the obituary. Moments later he stood up, read his paper one final time and clicked print.
Greg grabbed the paper and sprinted sown the hall. He burst through the editors door and ran to his desk. Slamming the paper down on the editors desk, Greg exclaimed "Done"
Greg's editor, Chad was less than impressed. "What is this? 1970?" said Chad.
"Email's down, Boss" answered Greg.
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