The Distant Joke

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2026-08-21 22:49:35 -

The Distant Joke

The rain did not fall; it hovered. A fine, gray mist clung to the windows of the office on the fourteenth floor, blurring the city below into a smear of charcoal and neon. I sat at my desk. The hum of the air conditioning was a low, constant drone. It sounded like a cello string bowed by a ghost. I stared at the cursor. It blinked. A rhythmic, patient pulse. On, off. On, off. My name is Elias...

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