"It was a life that was long and often unrewarding," Tom said as he picked his cardboard box up from what used to be his desk. The younger now ex-coworker who had been assigned to escort him out, tried not to meet his gaze. He shuffled about Tom awkwardly, hanging onto the dream of fitting in a smoke break as they headed into the lift.
"It's all boxes, Jimmy," said Tom as the elevator doors closed. "Four walls, that's all anyone wants. Look at us shooting about in this metal box, with me clutching this box full of twenty years worth of sentimental rubbish that'll only bring me misery."
James, who didn't like the name Jimmy, remained quiet, wondering when it would end. All James dreamt of was the door opening and Tom's scent being dispersed about in a less concentrated area.
"We come screaming into this world out of a box and spend all our time striving for a replacement. A house, a garage, our girlfriend's box. All we want is box until we're dead. All those wasted years striving......... And where does it all get you in the end?"
"In a box," James said.