A paper cup spins slowly in the break room microwave. Maurice watches. The caffeine can’t come soon enough. His head hurts and his vision is blurry at the edges. Insomnia. The microwave dings and Maurice grabs his coffee. He takes his first sip and Sherrie trudges into the break room. “Morning,” she says. “How’s Jenny?
At the point when they’re about to sign, I’m always gripped by the strangest feeling. It’s a rush, I suppose. A chemical release; the flood of endorphins. There are moments when we are all teased by that quintessentially human impulse of self-destruction: the irresistible urge to do something detrimental, simply to see what will happen.
