I hear the radio from the office next door. It’s gospel I think. I don’t recognize the particular screeching I hear, but it’s really all the same. “Jesus save me! Lift me into your arms! Jesus hold me!”

I think some days have themes. Obviously mine is going to be haunted by Jesus. It could have been anything. I look up to see what I’ve surfed onto.

I peruse the page. It’s interesting. It’s about magick or spirituality or something. It is easy to read, and enjoyable. I appreciate that. It’s the name that catches my attention: Abstract Utopia. It’s not often I am so caught up in a name, but I appreciate when I am. I try writing the name on my doodling pad. It flows well. I laugh to myself a little. There is an email link. I respond to their page.

Abstract Utopia-
It is rare that I am so taken in by a name. Thank you for lightening my day with yours. Where did you come up with it? I read your page because of the name. I am curious, what is the Open Road you speak of? Is this a spiritual thing? Thank You, J.

It is a stupid note and I know it, but I click send anyway. They probably don’t even check their email anyway, let alone respond to them. I read through more of the page. There are a few dead links, which is frustrating. Either they are currently building the page, or they just gave up on it. It’s really impossible to tell which it is.

I finish reading the page. I feel a bit more enlightened and not quite so frustrated with my day or the Jesus music streaming in from the office next door.

There is a knock on my door. I pull up the work I have finished and try to look like I’m doing it.

The door opens. “Julia, can I get your help? My computer is being weird.”

“Sure. No problem.” I am all peaches and cream for these people. I don’t even know why. I don’t like them and they don’t like me. I suppose that is how I am.

I stand up and walk with him to his office. “So, what did you do to freeze it up George?” Is that his name? I think so. Yes, I am sure it is.

“I was trying to load a gif file into my excel program.”

“Uh huh. What else?”

“I dunno.” Moron. We get to his office and I see the blue screen of death. I sit down in front of his computer and hit the reboot.

“Ahhh! I didn’t save!”

“Nothing we can do about that now.”

“But I worked on that all morning!”

“I’ll redo for you by the end of the day and email it to you.”

“But it took me a day to get everything right, you’ll never finish it by the time it’s due.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll finish it.”

The computer restarts and I bring up his work. It’s partially saved. This took him all morning? What an idiot. “Go onto lunch George, I’ll take the heat from the boss. You’ll have it done soon. Don’t worry.”

“Julia, I couldn’t let you do that.” What was that I just saw in his eyes?

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll get it done.”

“What about your project?”

“Don’t worry about that either. Go on to lunch. It’ll be done when you get back. Get me a sandwich.” I pull a few dollars out of my pocket and hand them to him. “And an ice tea no ice. And make sure there is no ham on the sandwich.”

“Julia, why are you doing this for me?”

“I have nothing else to do. Just go and bring me a sandwich.” He leaves, I roll my eyes as I hear the door shut. I hate when people get all sappy on me. I hate hearing their voice change from regular to that admiration crap.

I type quickly, finishing his project in about 30 minutes. I figure I’ll just tell him I retrieved part of it from somewhere. How could this have taken him so long? Am I really surrounded by such idiots?

The door opens about fifteen minutes after I finish. “I come bearing sandwiches!”

I smile. “I’m done. I was able to retrieve some of it, then I just did the calculations and finished it up.” He leans over my shoulder. I hate when people do that, truly hate it. I struggle not to shudder.

“You got more done than I had!”

“Oh? Well, it’s done now. What kind of sandwich did you get me?”

“Turkey and mustard, toppings. I think I heard someone say you were Jewish once.”

“Thank you.”

He hands me a bag. “I got you some fries as well.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” He sets my drink on the desk near me.

“So, how did you really finish it so fast?”

“I just did.”

“You’re amazing. You probably sit in your office all day doing nothing don’t you?” I am a bit taken a back.

“How did you know?”

“I know a lot of things that I don’t let onto.”

“Like?”

“Like the fact you’re unhappy despite the fact you always smile.”

“Uh huh.” I look him in the eye. They are a dirty shade of blue. They remind me of the dirty sewer water that they use to water golf courses.

“I froze my computer on purpose. I wanted to talk to you, see you in action.”

“Does everyone know?”

“No. I don’t think anyone does.”

“Then how do you? Are you spying on me?”

“No.”
“I’m leaving.” I get up with my sandwich and my drink.

“Don’t go.” He looks at me, his eyes are dirty. “Please.”

I leave. I never lie once I say I’m going to do something.

I go back to my office and eat. The sandwich is dry. The tea is powdered. I sit in my desk and glance over at the computer. I have an email. Probably just an ad to enlarge my non-existent penis. I open my email and see that it is from Abstract Utopia. I open it.

J-
The open road is the road we all choose to walk. It can be Spiritual if you want it to be, but really it just IS. I am glad you were touched by my choice of a name. It is actually a concept I came up with it childhood. Nothing can be perfect for everyone, so there can never be a true Utopia, only an abstract one based on your point of view. We all walk our own way and think our own way. We can’t expect everyone to be the same and want the same things, if we do, we’ll never find our own truth.
Walk the Open Road- Abstract Utopia

It is rare my interest is peeked like this. I am tempted to write back right away, but I don’t. I sit and think for a while. My mind wanders and I doodle on the notepad by my side.

I almost jump at the knock at my door I am so deep in though. “Julia? You still here?” Damn it.

“Yes, George, come in.” He does. I am annoyed.

He sits at a chair in my office. “You haven’t got pictures of your kids in here?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I keep my work and my life separate.”

“That’s depressing. You should have things to lighten you office. You won’t be as miserable.” Peaches and cream, I am peaches and cream.

“Maybe you’re right. I’ve been thinking about putting in some plants.” I smile sweetly.

“How are you?” I blink, I am taken a back for what seems like the millionth time today. I don’t know how to answer. “Fine.”

“And how are you really?”

“How am I supposed to answer that? You seem to already have all the answers.”

He shrugs and looks at me with those dirty eyes. I can feel myself beginning to hate them, truly hate them. “I want you to sleep with me.” I raise an eyebrow.

“No.”

He laughs. “You’re unhappy, I can make you happy.”

“I’m married and I don’t like you.”

“So?”

“I love my husband.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” I hear Jesus Music streaming in from next door.

"Huh. Well then.” He keeps looking at me with those eyes. I should probably be scared, but I’m not. He just keeps looking at me. Creepy fuck. “How about lunch tomorrow then?”

“What?”

“Lunch, with me. To eat food. Just friends, promise.”

“Fine.” I wish he would just go away and leave me alone like everyone else does.

“Good. Noon tomorrow then.”

He leaves. “What the hell was that?” I hate when I talk to myself. But I do. I do it a lot. I stare at my computer some. I reread my email. I want to respond, but I don’t know what to write.