the open spreadsheet

Littlegirlcop was having a very difficult time doing much of anything. The combination of the warm spring day and the lack of anything pressing made the afternoon a labor, but it was a labor of nothingness, a battle to fight off sleep, a struggle to look productive. Was the open spreadsheet on his screen convincing when Murphy's slouch told a different story.

This inactivity was punctuated by thoughts of endings and beginnings. His supervisor's father's recent hospitalization; the passing of a friends mother after a long fight with cancer; Murphy's mother's Alzheimer's. The lengthening and warming of the days; his niece's prom; the sweet bearded man that kissed him last night at the bar. Do the next months hold promise when the last few did not?