a boy (ume_no_heya) wrote in predilection_rp,
a boy
ume_no_heya
predilection_rp

who: koujiro and akito
what: just some business talk.
where: his oddment office.
when: late morning.
warnings: none.



Koujiro *hated* his office. It was one of those odd little spaces that had a weirdly angled roof and bizarre length walls because the entire floor had been filled with square cubicles and there was only this little corner left at the far side of the floor. It was cold in the winter, hot in the summer, and altogether rather cramped.

And worst of all things, the water dispenser was at the end of the ‘hall’ right outside the small place and people were *constantly* walking back and forth. It drove him mad. The only good thing about it was the somewhat large window.

Sitting in his chair, knees pulled up and chewing absently on the skin around his thumbnail, Koujiro flipped through the photos again. His walls were covered in pictures he’d taken in college – emotive and spontaneous portraits of his acquaintances and strangers, but there were binders full of prints for the magazine on the otherwise empty shelves. He went through them every then and again, peeking at his work and wishing, sometimes miserably, that he could take *real* photos.

Working for ‘rEvolution’ was all well and good; it paid his rent and made sure that he always had a bit of extra cash; normally he liked it. But it took up so much of his time, that taking pictures on his own time was almost an impossibility. Especially since all the media was raving about these days was the pop music scene, something he wasn’t interested in at all.

Leaning back in the stiff, uncomfortable chair, he stared out his window. He only had to be here for a while every day, but that didn’t make the time spent here any better. It was lonely, and uneventful; mostly because the majority of his co-workers thought he was absolutely insane. He was friendly enough! If a person could deal with his quirks.

He smiled wryly, flipping the next page in the binder he was looking through. “I am slowly going crazy… One two three four five six switch… Crazy going slowly am I… Six five four three two one switch.” He sang the childrens’ song under his breath to amuse himself, and flipped through the pages, wishing he could leave – or at least do something that involved more than sitting at his desk being bored nearly to tears.

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