-The Filing Cabinet

-The Filing Cabinet

By

Jesse Avery

In the corner of the break room, there’s a filing cabinet. It's not particularly an important cabinet; but it's not, not, important. I asked Charlie, my team lead, “Can I open it?” He called me, “idiot of course you could. But, it’s not yours, so don’t.” “Who owns it?” I gently slid my hand across the top, slightly grody, as if it hadn't been cleaned. “Obviously the company I’d guess”, “You’d guess?” I squinted at his already disappointed glare, “Screw off. 15 minutes left now, so good luck with all that. See you in the office, don’t be late again.” Returning me to the only mystery left in the day, I decided to ask my favorite question. ‘Why am I so fixated on this cabinet?’, already stroking my non-exsistent beard with my forked fingers. Is it because I don’t know what’s inside the cabinet? Or is it that the cabinet is something just so natural, that it feels unnatural—that I would be drawn to it. My darling asked me the same question yesterday, why I constantly mention that filing cabinet. “Bruce, you have a problem”, she reached over and held my hand softly. I accepted her gesture and continued further, “Yeah, but really the problem lies with why I can’t seem to find it in me to open that cabinet.” She smiled, “Honey…that’s not the issue. It's just a cabinet”.

Just. A. Cabinet.Yeah sure.

“Micaiah, you don’t get it, love. It's this, nagging, constant…Gods, ever so constant yammering into my mind.” My face contorted trying to file away thoughts, “I think you’ll have a better day tomorrow Brucey, alright?” I can’t help but smile at her sweet voice, thank God she wants to get to the bottom of this too.

I finish up my coffee, still warmly warm and slightly tasting of cinnamon…peppermint? I don’t really know, I’ve never even tried coffee till today. I opened the slightly creaky door that I’ve complained about for the entirety of my adult life, to a number of people now staring at me. “Honey.” Turning around I see my darling, “Micaiah?” Oh, it's some kind of intervention isn’t it, they want to help me deal with something this small? “Look, you've been on this ‘cabinet’ thing for more than five years now, Burbank.” I spun around again, it's Jeb, my best friend since I was seven years old. “Jeb, why the hell are you here? Also, calling me by my last name? What the hell, it's not like I’m some stranger.” Their eyes feel like they’re looking past me, so unfocused but focused.

“Do you feel like no one wants you to open up? Is that why you need to open up physical things like drawers?” With a hand on my back Charlie added on, “Look I can buy you a miniature drawer if that gets you past this weird addiction. You know? Close open, close open, close open, it's like working an office job.” I’m still leaning against the door that’s right behind me. I need to sit down.

I waved my hands ahead of my face, blocking the gazes from my line of sight.“I’m just curious? This isn’t like a drug addiction, why is everyone so insistent that I get off this open the filing cabinet thing?” Micahiah came up to me, “You have a wife who loves you”, then Charlie, “A decent and safe job, and half-decent coffee” Jeb, “Someone who’d follow you to the ends of the Earth, man,” one person after another they came. Co-worker, best friend, exes, my landscapers, even the cable guy Thomas, “5G wifi at all times during the day”. I feel like my words aren’t getting past them at this point. I’m literally going to break something, hopefully a certain cabinet.

“I-I, yeah just give me about thirty minutes to think about all…this.” They all left back to their work and my wife came along beside me, “Darling, I think we should focus on fili–putting this all away. Somewhere safe. Somewhere we don’t have to worry about unnecessary things.” Her eyes beady…like some lizard. Maybe that’s the reason I don’t have a lizard, maybe she’s related…

No, Bruce. Stay focused. Cabinet first.

“Darling! I am going to use the bathroom! Definitely not within the vicinity of the breakroom, located directly behind me!” With the utmost suave I made my way into the rear entrance of the bathroom, making sure to do the bladder patter to make it extra believable. Then I crawled onto the ground as I snuck out of the bathroom and slithered back into the breakroom.

I see it. That darnStupidCabinet.

I sprinted to it but the others instantly caught up to me, “BRUCE WHAT THE EVER LIVING HELL!” I gotta just run for it, ain’t no way I can get to it without any issue.

Quickly grabbing my leg I couldn’t believe how strong they could handle me by the way, I think the lizard theory could be correct...I NEED that CABINET.

“Look Bruce! You just need to think about all of us! It's not important! We are!” All in unison their lizard tongues spat out that nearly rehearsed phrase.

I reached out with all my might, and ripped open the cabinet. The cabinet slamming me backwards as it opened. Knelt over feeling like I got punched by some cartoon punching glove. The walls are all gone, my coworkers obviously deleted along with everything else. ‘Bruce, I don’t think I’m in Kansas anymore’, nailed that joke

“That’s a horrible reference Bruce. Also that coffee was peppermint”

I looked up to meet the man…possibly behind it all? Oh God, I’m gonna hurl. At this point I’m not even surprised that I’m in a realm of pure white. “You read my thoughts, mystery man. Also what.”“Don’t throw up, also I can do a lot more than that Bruce, congrats breaking through whatever that was”

Slumped against the now fully extended filing cabinet, I sat up by pushing up against it, and stared at him dead in the eye. “So…was I right”

“What do you mean? The thing about lizards? Or your slight feeling that your life was so perfect, that you could tell it wasn’t really real?”

I shrugged, “All the above”, then sat up on the white stool that the mystery man had across from him.

“You have a Herman Miller…”

“Alright, so what did we learn about having a perfect life?”

I leaned back on the stool only slightly to not fall off, the paint rubbing off on my pants.

“Uh. Well, that it's not so perfect?”

“Screw off.”

The hell am I supposed to answer?

“Something that makes sense”

“That’s not cool of you…guy? Guy?…maybe it's about the journey and all that”

“A man of many words…and so little thoughts”

“You don’t need to necessarily give me a good answer Bruce, its not like this is the second time this has happened”

I leaned back and swung my arms behind my back for a deep stretch

“That’s an odd way to phrase its the first time this has happened…did this happen more than-”

“How about you read something in that little filing cabinet, that you wanted to look at so much.”

Honest to God…(guy)? I completely forgot about that thing, you know it's about the journey

With a swift gesture of his hand one of the files flew directly into my hands. A script.

“The hell?”

“Do you want to read it?”

I gave him it back, I already knew what it had contained.

“That’s quite a meta-perspective you have there”

“Can you just send me back? I get it. I’m just in the loo–.”

With a snap I got sent back, I just don’t know why I needed to do this though.

Well, crap.

15 minutes are up.

I left the breakroom after taking a glance back at the cabinet. And opened the same creaky door that I’ve complained of the entirety of my adult life. “Honey.” Turning around I see my darling, “Micaiah?” Oh, it's some kind of intervention isn’t it–Wait…this already happend…

Everyone froze like it was part of some flashmob

“Ah…you don’t want to repeat?”

He appeared walking out of the breakroom behind me, and looked at me slightly hopeful as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

“No, that’d be way more boring,” I removed his hand, he continued as he walked in front of me

“Everything is boring, its just a basic perspective. You give an ant a piece of bread and it we can guess its elated, or whatever the ant equivalence is”

“So are you equating my life to the ant?”

“In a way? Yeah, I am. You have nothing to do now because you denied your reality. The ant is at least stupid enough to not understand that its an ant”

I’m more than just an actor in some large play… and what does this guy say matter, especially one who can’t even have the decency to give his guest a high quality chair…

With a laugh the guy continued to prattle on.

“Look, Bruce. I don’t really know how to save you here, how about you just read that note. Also, I could have treated you worse you know? Also also, you’re not getting the whole picture here.”

The paper appeared in my hands once again with a pop sound, literally the onomatopia.

“Just read it Bruce, don’t wimp out”

I lifted the note to eye view and just as I’d assumed, it was my own script.

“In the corner of the break room, there’s a filing cabinet. It's not particularly an important cabinet; but it's not, not, important. I asked Charlie, my team lead, “Can I open it?” He called me, “idiot of course you could. But, it’s not yours, so don’t.” “Who owns it?” I gently slid my hand across the top, slightly grody, as if it hadn't been cleaned. “Obviously the company I’d guess”, “You’d guess?”

“Not surprising, yes. But have you looked on the other side?”

“I looked up to meet the man…possibly behind it all? Oh God, I’m gonna hurl. At this point I’m not even surprised that I’m in a realm of pure white. “You read my thoughts, mystery man. Also what.””

…So its just part of the script again sure

“You don’t get it Bruce do you? The script involves the both of us, beings who are aware of being within the holdings of the same manuscript.”

I just look at him absolutely bored of these antics

“Antics? You know Bruce. Its most likely that we’re both not exactly ‘real’ exsistences? Like your wife and all them. Not necessarily real but not fake either.”

“So what? I’ve lived this way my entire life? What changes now that my reality is extra fake? I should just do whatever I want now and get some god powers like you”

“Fair point. But doesn’t life exist to have some meaning? Not some pre-ordianed destiny?”

Yeah and now some god, is having a crashout…

“Just shut it already, know what? How about we both go back to the beginning? Im done with all this meta crap.”

“You never want to do more Bruce, stuck in mediocrity.”

He walked back into the break room and deftly made his way to the corner. With a tired look, he opened-

-The Filing Cabinet

By

Jesse Avery