The office is quiet in that deafening way. The constant whir of the different machines folding together in a kind of dischordant harmony. The air conditioner’s wheezing falcetto. All the computers humming their own tune, out of key and out of sync. Every hour or so the fax machine beeps, then whirs to life; excited to be doing something, then retreats back to nervous silence when the last page spits out. He hears his own feet shuffling across the carpet, as he retrieves the fax. Half asleep, the sound reminds him of a record player stuck at the end of an album.

Expense report.

It was always expense reports at 3 am. He shuffles over to the billing department, leaving the fax on the desk of the cute intern who comes in the morning. On his way out he would use it as an excuse to stop and chat for a minute. She would nod and smile as he prattled on about how nothing ever happens on his shift. She always rolled her eyes when he walked away, but for him it’s the only real human contact in his day.