The smell of crappy coffee drifted out of the break room and into the hall, along with the murmur of voices, both male and female. The old adage of office workers lingering around the water cooler was bullshit -- the coffee pot was the where all the action was. By *action*, of course, we always mean *inaction*. Nothing productive ever happened down this hallway. It's almost like when the corporate drones walked into the harshly over-lit hole-in-the-wall that passed for a break room, they turned off what was left of their tiny brains. They let loose with a verbal onslaught of inane conversation about the latest reality shows, their kid's soccer game, or the most recent office gossip. The most fascinating topic was the conversation about the weekends. Those always got under Henry's skin. First thing Monday until Wednesday at Noon it was always, "Did you have a good weekend?" or "What did you do last weekend?". From after lunch on Wednesday until the sweet release of quitting bell on Friday it was "Got any plans this weekend?". Either way, they didn't really care. They usually just used it as a convenient segue into more talking about themselves. One couldn't make his way into the maze of cubicles without first passing by the door to the breakroom unless, of course, one chose to crawl through the ceiling or air ducts. Some days, Henry considered it might be worth it to try. Fuck it. He'd pull his corporate mask on and plaster a big, fake smile on his face while he greeted his coworkers like he did the other five days of the week. The three others stood or sat in various poses of delay to the inevitable start to the Thursday morning grind. Chad was the leader of the pack; a handsome, thin redhead that wore too much khaki and got too much credit for being good at his job. He wasn't, but people assumed he was because he was good looking. The guy wore his sideburns too long for Henry's taste. For Christ's sake, man. You're not in Beverly Hills 90210. Shave them off already, would ya? The overgrown Opie Cunningham raised a steaming white styrofoam cup as he leaned agianst the wall. "Hey, Henry. Morning." "Yes. It is morning alright." Henry replied. An obligitory chuckle. It wasn't funny, but that's all part of the game isn't it? You play your part, I'll play mine, and if we're both lucky we'll get out of this without hurting anyone. "We were just talking about Survivor. So, who do you think is going to get voted off on tonight? Marla says Greg will, but I think they need to keep the last black guy on for a bit longer. You know, for ratings and all. They don't want to look racist, or whatever." Danielle stood up and pushed the first section of the local paper across the the table. She was tall, elegant, and a total bitch. "No, she wants Greg gone because he was mean to Jacob, and Marla thinks Jacob is dreamy." She said the last part in a sing-songy voice like a third grade girl taunting another on the playground. "Like you don't?" Marla said. "It's not about that. He's just playing the game. It's Survivor," Danielle said, using air quotes -- honest to God air quotes -- for the name of the show, "You do what you have to do to survive. Even if it means lying to your teammates." Raising the cup back to his lips, Chad smiled and blew the steam away. "Well, Henry? What do you think? Who's getting voted off?" "Dunno." Henry replied, busying himself with pouring himself a cup of slime that they called coffee. At least the price was right. As he ripped open the nineth sugar packet, Henry added, "It'll probably be...um...Chad." The redhead tossed his head back with a laugh and clapped Henry on the shoulder. "That's a good one, man. But, bro, listen. If I was on the show, I'd totally win." "Yea, totally", Danielle said. At least she didn't use the air quotes this time. "I'm not kidding. I'd totally rock that show." "You couldn't live without your precious college basketball. Seriously, Chad, I think that's why my accounting software runs so slow, because you're streaming every game of this stupid tourney to your cubicle." Marla said. Chad laughed again. "Shhh, don't let 'em hear you. I might get busted." "That's kind of the point." both girls replied in unison. "Anyway, I'm watching the Duke game with my bro Jeff from college. You know, the one I told you could eat a dozen hard boiled eggs before he pukes? Yea, he's flying into town tomorrow. We're totally gonna tear it up." Chad said all of this like any of us actually knew who he was talking about before adding, "How about you, Henry? You got any plans for the weekend?" Henry took a deep breath. He sipped his coffee thoughtfully. He put his big, fake smile back on his face. "Just the usual. Well, have a good one guys and gals." He turned to leave; coffee in one hand and a friendly wave in the other. For all of their faults, those drones were right about one thing, he decided. It's Survivor. You do what you have to do to survive. SELF CRITIQUE: Henry's dark perspective seems to also come from the narrator. Is that too confusing?