Indignant didn’t even begin to describe it for Shaun. James must have flipped his gourd, the doofus. Fully a year ago Shaun had made the strategic decision to allow him to participate in the mocking. Granted, there weren’t a lot of other options.

No, this was the land of data entry, and the slick sheen of society’s cream did not last long here among the drudgery and cubicle half-walls. Shaun was different of course. He could do anything. But this was easy, paid well enough to allow his weekend excursions, and there was little risk of failure. He loathed it deep down, and himself for staying, but still he’d likely be here for years.

The only thing that made the existence tolerable was the target rich environment for sarcasm. But you need someone to say the cutting remarks to. A whispered dig is no good unless there’s someone to hear it.

Abandoned and stinging, Shaun eyed James showing the temp through the maze and leaned to his right, “Psst, hey Murphy.”