Humdrum by Mitchell Brockman

Chapter One: Another Day

Davis sat at his desk, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The glow of the computer screen reflected in his glasses as numbers filled the spreadsheet. His fingers moved automatically, entering data, correcting errors, without thinking about what any of it meant. Another report, another set of figures, an endless procession of work that blurred together.

Outside his cubicle, the office was filled with the low hum of fluorescent lights and the quiet tapping of keyboards. He could hear distant murmurs, small clusters of people talking in hushed tones. The conversations never reached him. They never did.

At 4:45, David rose from his desk, the scrape of his chair against the floor barely registering over the din of office chatter. He walked to the kitchenette to get a cup of water, more out of habit than thirst. As he filled the paper cup from the water cooler, two coworkers, Liam and Sarah, stood nearby, laughing softly. They were close, leaning in toward each other, sharing some joke David didn’t hear.

He stood awkwardly a few feet away, sipping his water. He could feel their presence, their easy camaraderie, but they didn’t acknowledge him.

“I’m thinking we hit O’Malley’s this weekend,” Liam said, smirking. “Same spot as last time. Happy hour starts early on Saturdays, right?”

“Yeah, that sounds perfect!” Sarah replied, her smile widening. “I could use a drink after this week.”

David stared at the water in his cup, feeling the silence between them and himself widen, though they were standing mere feet away. The noise of the office seemed to swell around him, as though amplifying his invisibility.

“You down, Chris?” Liam asked, turning slightly, though not toward David. Chris, another coworker, passed by and grinned. “Absolutely, wouldn’t miss it.”

David glanced at them, waiting for some flicker of recognition, for even a passing glance in his direction. He didn’t expect an invitation, he never did, but a nod, a look, anything would have sufficed.

Nothing.

They kept talking, their conversation filled with plans, laughter, and the warmth of familiarity. Drinks, weekend plans, stories about the last time they’d all gone out together. None of it involved David. He stood there, sipping water he didn’t want, listening but not part of the conversation. The sound of their voices faded, replaced by the quiet hum of the vending machine.

He finished the water, crumpled the cup in his hand, and tossed it in the trash. As he turned to leave, he almost bumped into Karen from HR. She smiled quickly at him, more out of reflex than recognition, and stepped aside without really looking at him.

"Sorry," David muttered, though her eyes had already drifted past him, focused on someone else who had just entered the kitchenette. John from accounting. She greeted him warmly, immediately engaging in conversation about the upcoming team-building event.

David walked back to his cubicle. As he sat down, his phone chimed, an email from the boss.

A reminder about the company retreat next month.

He skimmed it. They always sent out these emails, full of excitement about "team bonding" and "col-laboration." He never went to the retreats. No one noticed.

From across the room, he saw Liam chatting with Sarah again, their laughter punctuating the soft hum of the office. They were always in sync, as if they shared a private world, one that David could never quite step into. Sometimes he felt like he was looking through glass, watching everyone else move through their lives, but never able to touch them.

A soft ding from his computer snapped him out of his thoughts. A message popped up on the screen: Liam sent you a document for review.

For a moment, David felt a flicker of acknow-ledgment. He opened the document and quickly scanned the numbers. A few errors. Nothing major.

He corrected them and sent it back.

Seconds later, a reply pinged on his screen.

Liam: "Thanks, Matt."

David stared at the message. Matt?

He glanced around, but no one looked his way.

His hands hovered over the keyboard for a moment, and then, without responding, he closed the chat window. He sat there, watching the blank screen, feeling the quiet press in on him.

Later that week, during the department meet-ing, David found himself sitting in the back corner of the conference room. He rarely spoke during these meetings. It wasn't that he had nothing to contribute; it just always seemed like no one expected him to. He could speak up, but when he did, people would nod politely and move on as if he hadn't said anything.

The head of the department, Judy, stood at the front, flipping through the agenda. Routine up-dates, project progress, the usual. Then she smiled, a broad, almost beaming smile.

"And before we wrap up, I'd like to take a moment to recognize someone who's really stepped up this week. Chris," she said, nodding toward the middle of the room, where Chris was sitting.

"You've really been on top of those project reports.

I've noticed the accuracy and speed with which you're handling them. Great work!"

Applause filled the room, light but appreciative.

David's heart sank. The reports. The ones Judy was praising Chris for were the same type he had been doing for months. Quietly, efficiently, and with no acknowledgment. David glanced around the room, watching as people smiled and congratulated Chris.

Judy continued, "It's this kind of dedication we need to keep things running smoothly around here.

Keep it up!"

David stared at his hands, feeling the familiar sense of invisibility settle over him. He wanted to say something, to point out that he had been handling those same reports, week in and week out, long before Chris had even started on them. But the words caught in his throat. It felt useless. Pointless.

After the meeting, people gathered around Chris, patting him on the back, laughing about how he'd have to buy drinks at O'Malley's now. David stood by the doorway, watching the scene unfold, waiting for a moment to slip out without being noticed. It wasn't difficult.

As he left the room, he overheard Mark, one of the team leads, say to Chris, "Honestly, man, you're saving us a ton of time with those reports. Keep up the good work."

David paused, his hand on the door handle, before pushing through and exiting. The sounds of the office quickly swallowed him again-keyboards tapping, phones ringing, the soft murmur of conversations that didn't involve him.

The clock on his monitor blinked 5:01. He saved the document, closed the window, and shut down the computer. He stood up, grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, and headed for the elevator. No one said goodbye. They never did.

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