THE DESK

very short fiction

Legs tired by inaction slept, the man attached to them waited the white-less night.

The china desk and the compartments beneath it had the most coveted papers of espionage but he sat without any worry, like a pensioner in a park.

Pensioned days were near; he tapped the sides of the desk like it was his wife with a bit of both love and hate. A knowing smile graced half of his black lips, the other half was occupied by a burning a cigarette; His last for the day, perhaps for life.

An electronic tick sound indicated that the file upload had been successful, just at that moment a gun had appeared in the doorway. They had come for him.