Our workday selves are here.
In collared shirts and typing on a desktop.
Our emotional selves standing nearby.
Silent, carbon see-through copy.
I pause from the spreadsheet
And remember seeing her on an ad yesterday.

The me, standing silent next to me
Lets out a groaning scream
Like someone lost in the woods hysterically
Trying to put a new tire on a truck.
About to break into sobs from the helplessness.
Shrill and extended the scream
Makes the air and the walls and the computer screen
Rattle like they're being throttled.

I stop typing and stare blankly at a
Paint chip on the wall.
Floating on my back in the waves of the
Screams filling the silent room.

"Eh." I shake my head.
And go back to the spreadsheet
As the screams go on
Full force
Without me noticing.