Frustration at the Office

I must leave this desk for a while. As the commuter leaves the bossy confinement of the metropoline skyscraper in search of comforting verdant pastures, so I head for the lure of the coffee shop. The arguments irritating behind me like the scorching heat bounced off unforgiving facades, the sticky residue of futility. Against this I curl my wings and close my eyes, as a bat I fly, through the baffling avenues or corridors until there is nothing to sense but freedom, and a large latte.