Sighing, Johnson sat down for what felt like the millionth time and began to fiddle with the plastic plant that was situated neatly in the corner of his desk. Another generic faux fern, identical in every way to the faux ferns that were to be found on most of the other desks on the floor.

A blowfly lazily buzzed past one ear and then around past the other. Circling his head like a passenger jet waiting for approval to approach the runway for a final descent.

“Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.” …