Emery Wright

Coworkers’ online status shifts to “away” like building lights flickering off one by one. Unplug the keyboard and mouse, hear the laptop flop shut. Goodnight desk, great day together. Sorry about the dollop of hummus I dripped on you earlier – you know how rushed lunch is between meetings. Goodnight chair, I know you won’t miss supporting the weight of my world on your shoulders. You’re flattening my ass like a goddamn panini press. I reckon you should stretch before the 10th floor relay race tonight. Goodbye fluorescent ceiling light that’s blinded me for 8 hours. I know you long to be a ring light, but a word of advice: no need to shine so bright. Goodbye glass cup I’ve refilled seven and a half times. And sorry, I know you hate the taste of tzatziki. I hope the dishwasher is at a disco tonight. Goodbye crushed can of sparkling water, you were oh-so refreshing. And I’m sorry to tell you this, but lost people will come for you at night. They’ll collect you from the trash like a golden ticket and trade you in for credit. Goodbye glossy concrete floors and my apologies for wearing the suede brown boots today. I know the heel is sharp and it’s exhausting for you to make my steps echo – thanks for your diligent efforts. You made me sound like a CEO coming around the corner instead of the new hire. Goodnight snailish elevator, I heard you had a heavy lift today. See you tomorrow and please recognize my security key fob for once – it’s your job. I know you know me. Goodbye momentous glass building doors that require the full force of my bodyweight. I wish you were revolving. But I understand there are some things we can’t solve about ourselves. Goodnight wise office building built in 1882. Goodnight naïve Starbucks-next-door built yesterday. Goodnight crosswalk and traffic lights and all the New Yorkers ignoring you. Don’t worry. I’ll always say goodnight to you, too.