I Only Exist at Work

I Only Exist at Work Every morning, I badge into the building.

The lights turn on. The hallway stretches forever. And that’s when

I wake up. I don’t remember my name. I don’t remember my life.

I only know my job. Eight hours pass in what feels like minutes. Then the lights

flicker. I blink. And suddenly, I’m outside again. It’s night.

My badge is gone. My phone is full of photos I don’t remember taking. One day,

I find a note in my pocket. It’s written in my handwriting. It says:

“Do not trust them.” And underneath that: “You asked for this.”