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General situation


The editor pushed the papers back across the desk. “Poems” she said “based around the shipping forecast are so far beyond old hat that I’m amazed you haven’t bored yourself to death. Get me something on data breaches and maybe we’ll talk.”

The papers fell to the floor like shit confetti.  I stayed silent and ashamed as she walked past me, off to lunch. Ashamed as I was unable to admit to her that my data had indeed been breached, parcelled up and sold off with the rest. But I only knew this for a fact because it had been returned to me that morning, in a brown envelope with a polite note reading that it was of no use as it was too boring.

Outside, it still didn’t look like spring.

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