In the Middle of the Afternoon
Its the middle of the afternoon here where I work. On thursday the mood has not yet reached that point where people begin longing for the weekend. The hum of hundreds of computers spread throughout the large open area where my desk is located is soft and slightly relaxing. A network admin is talking to someone several cubes down, and smatterings of conversations occasionaly arrest my attention.
Outside the sky is overcast. A slightly gray and damp atmousphere marked by a tinge of yellow as the light of the sun fights to get through and ends up diffused by millions of tiny drops of water floating in the air.
It is the middle of the afternoon, and though I can think of better ways to spend a day like this, I am strangely content to sit here and let my mind wander. Such days as this remind me of the fall, of quiet saturday mornings with the Hardy Boys for company. Such are the ways of memory, on days marked with gentle spring rain.