Submit

He sat in front of the screen. It had grown dark around him, there was no light on in the room, but he didn’t notice, his nose just 18 inches from the harsh rectangle. Three half emptied and long cold mugs of coffee were a flimsy barricade between him and the realities of what he was reading.
He drummed his fingers, Hot for Teacher bass-drum fast, what had he missed? It couldn’t be right. He flicked his eyes to the bottom right, Christ, where does the time go.
He pushed himself away from the desk and turned round to look at the papers scattered around the floor. Then he noticed the darkness and stood up to switch the light on. Kneeling down, he skimmed through the array of depressing figures; looking for that elusive and long forgotten something. a key, a solution. A saviour.
No, no…ah…no. It was so long ago, it’s seems like it was someone else creating this mess. It’s so damned unreasonable to expect people to do this.
He rubbed his temples with one hand, also conveniently shielding his eyes from the now bright energy saver bulb. There’s another curse of the modern age, yes you’ll be able to see properly, in a minute. He usually switched the light on and came back later to do what it was he was wanting to do, surely defeating the purpose of the energy saver bulb?
Oh these damned tangents, tripped up every time.
There!
Not on the paper, on a tangent. That’s where it was. He stood, sat and swivelled, puching keys with toes curled around the base of the chair..Next…Next…that’s better.
He pressed Save and as he walked to the kitched to make an attempt on another cuppa, the pins and needles in his head and hands subsided.
He sat back down and flew through the rest and without hesitation pressed Submit and sat back.

Income tax doesn’t have to be taxing, but it doesn’t stop it being a bastard.