By Peter J. Stavros

We carry our lunches in plastic grocery bags, Tupperware containers, insulated totes. We move in silence, impassive, vacant stares, arms full, shoulders slumped, merging from parking lots, bus stops, subway stations, onto sidewalks and plazas. We type in security codes, swipe key cards, flash badges, disappear into awaiting buildings, up stairs or elevators, down corridors buzzing from tubular fluorescent bulbs. We enter offices, cubicles, conference rooms, flip on lights, log onto computers. We sit. We check calendars, scroll through emails, retrieve messages. We settle for another day, another chunk of our lives, wondering how it would feel to be free. 

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Peter J. Stavros is an author and playwright in Louisville, Kentucky. His work has been featured in literary journals, anthologies, newspapers, and magazines. You can find more at http://www.peterjstavros.com.