Tick Tock Tick Tock

Tick Tock Tick Tock.

The colour continued to fade from Trevor Harris' thick knuckles as his hands clasped tighter around his coffee mug. Still full, it's golden contents were now becoming a less attractive murky brown. Opening his eyes he flung back his and fixing his eyes on the black and white square tiles he tried to focus. Exhaling loudly he again looked at the post-it note his P.A, Sheila had left stuck to his plasma monitor.

At P:A's COFFEE MORNING
NO URGENT MESSAGES
BACK ABOUT 10am
Sheila

For the first time in a long while the Financial Director felt an unfamiliar shiver travel through his body. He recognised it as fear. Not an emotion he was used to experiencing. He had worked for as long as he could remember to stop himself from feeling scared of anything or anyone. He hadn't fallen foul of that until now.

Within his churning stomach he prayed that today Sheila was as inefficient as ever. During the six months she had 'worked' for him this was the first time she had ever collected the mail before him. He had to question why of all days it had to be today. With the back of his hand he wiped the sweat from his brow as the thought of her 'of all bloody people ' discovering more than she needed to know about him and discussing it with excitement hit home. He could just picture that coven of witches cackling about him over their instant coffee and value brand biscuits. That bunch were more renowned in the building for their pot stirring and dirt digging skills than for any secretarial skills they had once fooled people into thinking they had.

The fact that he could well be their newest topic of conversation did not bare thinking about. His life, his career, his marriage. It would all be ruined. Destroyed beyond repair or even the slightest recognition of what it used to be. The idea of it ' even just in his imagination ' filled him with a morbid anticipation. Much like he imagined an old person felt while waiting for the Grim Reaper to come blow his whistle and call time on another life.

With each minute he was unable to lessen the thoughts that were causing his hands to shake so violently. The now cold coffee spilled from the Simpson's mug his wife, Nadia had bought him last Christmas as his novelty present. So lost in his conscious nightmares Trevor didn't even register at the wet liquid dripping over his hands.

He was disappointed when he looked at his gold Rolex and saw it was only 5 minutes since he had last checked. 9. 15 Am. The gold hands perfectly horizontal across the diamond studded face. Blinking heavily he placed his mug on the left side of his desk and closed his eyes, closing his lids as tightly as possible. The longer he waited the more he felt the colour drain leaving his face ashen. Not to mention his eyes, the anticipation causing his iris' to lose the tone that made them so noticeable and so attractive. If his wife of 22 years could see now she would be shocked to see the feature she favoured most on her husband looking so lifeless, so dead.

Even as a child Trevor had never been small, long ago accepting he was what his mother always referred to as big boned. More often described as average looking, the product of two vertically challenged parents he reached his final height of 5ft 8in during his 3rd year of high school. With a square superhero jaw and dark brown hair which he kept cropped short as this was the only way he could control the natural wave he had inherited from his mother. Never overweight due to the lifestyle he had started the year he graduated from university. The combination of freshly cooked well rounded meals, regular trips to the squash court and laps in the pool meant he managed to carry his size well. Even though he was 45 most of his body was pure muscle. He often saw the younger boys admiring his work in the gym, aware their eyes held a tinge of green. Not surprising the shape he kept his body in. Ignoring there eyes he carried on with his workout knowing he was only this fit because of the hard work he had put in to make the most of what God had given him. Unlike many men around ' mainly the younger ones ' he knew that he had to graft to achieve every little thing he ever wanted to get in this life. He realised at quite a young age that nothing got handed to you on a plate in this life, whatever it was that he had wanted he had always gone out there and got it himself. After all why should anyone else do it for you if you can't do it yourself?!

Though as he sat in his office with its' marble floor and minimalist furnishing's the masculinity he exuded in the gym and the mental strength he used to build his career were concealed. Never normally a man to shirk a challenge this was one mission he had chosen not to accept. He had thought about going to find Sheila, hardly a hard task to follow the shrieking laughter they seemed to only have when they in a group of 3 and above. He had once had the misfortune to walk into their 'coffee morning' and had found the sound reminiscent of a cat being straggled. Today the noise was the very least of his worries. He had at somehow managed to get his brain working logically and realised his search could do a lot more harm than good.

In scenario 1: He saw them all sat their discussing their gossip equivalent to a pot of gold and then he walks in, mid mud slinging. Well he couldn't then ask for the offending piece of mail as he would be pretty much admitting it was his. At least if she bought it to his desk already open he could deny he had placed the order and then sack her. He was pretty sure opening a letter marked personal without permission was Gross Misconduct.
And scenario 2: In this one she arrived back at the office, unopened mail in hand and no one's any the wiser and he gets to reprimand her for not dropping the mail off before she went for coffee. If he had been waiting on urgent mail this could have affected his work and that was not acceptable.

Though his little plans were all well and good he was more than aware of how shaky the ground he was standing on was at this precise moment. He still felt like his world could come crashing down in a matter of minutes.

The fear only encouraged him to think about everything around him. He had been sat moments ago and realised how important his family actually were to him. He had a worrying doubt he may have been taking the ones he loved for granted, nor could he wholeheartedly say he was always forthcoming when it came to showing those around him how he really felt. It unnerved him to think that if today went bad they might not know that without them he would easily have been nobody with nothing. Without their support and patience his life would have been unthinkable. All the late nights, working weekends, surviving on barely 4 hours sleep. Did they know he did all of it for them?

Flinging his left arm across the desk in frustration his wrist collided with the mug of dead coffee. The sound of it smashing on the marble floor made him jump and he looked down to see a puddle of liquid making its way between the tiles. It had sounded louder than he thought possible as it echoed in the deathly silence of his office. That combined with the racing he could not stop his brain from doing only served to enhance the dull ache that was nestled behind his eyes.

If those who shared his building saw him sat there with his smoothly shaven chin resting on beech wood desk and his brow furrowed beyond belief they would be stopped dead in their tracks. This man looked nothing like the Trevor Harris they all knew. A stranger would just have observed a lost, forlorn man with the weight of the world, maybe even the universe resting on his broad shoulders. Those who knew him would have been speechless at the sight. Walking away with raised eyebrows and questioning shoulders they would be thinking the same. Is that The Trevor Harris?

Yet surely they would all feel the same if they were in his size 9's right now.
Who wouldn't?

Rubbing his head and his eyes Trevor couldn't help but consider the outcome of what might happen to his world today. He pictured it there, on the floor smashed into tiny miniscule pieces, so many he had no idea how and if he reconstruct it. He didn't even want to think about the other lives that would shatter right along with his, clearly more than what could ever be repaired.

With a sigh that even the weakest ear would register Trevor leant back in his real leather desk chair. With no strength left a single tear escaped from behind closed eyelids and he wondered where his life, his entire being would be in half an hours time.

Putting his head into his palms he lost control, unable to hold it in one second longer. With tears rolling rapidly down his face he finally let go,

"OH FUCK! OH FUCK! WHAT HAVE I DONE?