Office Clock

The thin black hands on the cheap plastic office clock spun quickly around the circumfrance of its face as Ivy stared fixedly at its milling arms. Did time really speed by that fast as day froze into night, and night melted into the predawn colors of morning? Maybe her imagination was getting to her, maybe those images were coming back again? The medication obviously wasn't working.
Ivy took her retro black glasses off and dropped them frustratedly on her stained cherry wood desk. She let out an audible sigh that caused her secretary, Marcie, to glace back in the office.
"Will this day never end?" Ivy thought as she ran her hands through her masses of brunette curls. Her usually large, sparkling green eyes were now only slits and the color of pond moss.
"Marcie," Ivy called into the hallway, "I'm leaving. Take all of my messages down, if I have any at all."
Marcie nodded and carried on with her typing.
"Such a smart worker," Ivy thought, "does what she's told like a good minion should." She let out a slight chuckle to herself and she opened the door to the staris that led to the ground floor. Ivy never has trusted elevators.
On her way down the six flights of stairs, Ivy's mind wandered to many things, as it so often did. Mostly her mind wandered to the ever present thought of suicide. She hated her life and everything in it. So much so that she was willing to do any, and all things to get rid of it permanently. She had heard stories of "botched" suicides, and regretably that was the only thing stopping her from attempting. On these many trips down the stairs she had come up with the perfect way. She would go into her garage in the dead of night, turn on the car, open the car windows, and just drift off to sleep. Painless and quick. However, what if someone found her while she was just on the brink of death? Brain damage? Fuck that.