squared [Shoey Dawceffa]

Chapter 1

I never really considered myself to be claustrophobic.

Up until the point that I got my first real job, at least.

Now I couldn't help but think the walls of my cubicle were closing in on me.

"They're getting closer, dude."

"Nah."

"I'm telling you, they're getting closer."

I leaned back in my chair, extending my arms out as far as I could, the tips of my fingers brushing against the cubicle walls. From the cube next door, I heard Drew chuckle quietly to himself. This was a conversation that I struck up at least once a week, convinced that the cleaning crew who came in after hours was secretly pushing my cubicle tighter together.

"I used to not be able to touch," I reasoned. The squeak of Drew's chair rolling back caused me to dip my head further backwards, watching upside down as he appeared around the corner. "Now look at it," I groaned. "Look at all this touching."

"That's what she said."

"Thanks," I replied dryly.

"Did you see what Jones was wearing this morning?"

I sighed, popping my chair upright before spinning around to face Drew properly.

"You remember that science teacher from first year? The fuck was his name... with the big glasses and the ugly Christmas sweaters all year round?" He rested his palms flat on his stomach, as if I couldn't remember where sweaters were worn. "Ehm"

"Mr. Cho?"

"Yes! Mr. Fucking Cho," he clapped his hands once.

I nodded.

"The sweater that Jones is wearing, I'm telling ya, Mr. Fucking Cho would turn his nose up at it."

"Mmm," I hummed, "Must be bad."

Drew's expression fell flat, letting his arms fall lifeless at his sides, "The fuck is wrong with you, SHane?" While his words, taken out of context, may have sounded harsh, to me it was just Drew. His every day struggle was to try and stop himself from letting cuss words fly out of his mouth when facing clients or answering phones-I couldn't tell you the amount of times he had banged his fists dramatically on the desk, yelling out a quick "fuck!" after realizing that he had cursed in an email. It was just part of his vocabulary.

"I already told you," I groaned, "My cube is getting smaller. Soon enough, I'll be all squished together," I pulled my shoulders in dramatically, "Not even able to stretch properly throughout the day. I'll end up walking like Mr. Cho."

"His walk!" Drew let out a loud cackle, "I totally forgot about his walk." I let a small smile slip onto my face. "You think he walked like that because of the weight of his sweaters?"

"It must be hard to walk with all that ugly on you."

"Exactly!" He cried, cackling loudly once more.

"How did my life end up like this?" I sighed, letting my head fall back onto my chair, staring up at the fluorescent lights above. "We were gonna be somebody, remember? We were gonna matter. Now look at us," I shut my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and middle finger. "Half past eight on a Tuesday morning, and the most interesting thing to talk about is Jones' choice of attire."

"It's really something to talk about though."

"Whatever," I snapped my eyes open, sitting up straight and turning back towards my desk.

"You just need to relax," Drew laughed though nothing was funny, clapping his hands down onto my shoulders. "Let's go to the bar tonight."

"Can't. Got an early meeting."