Click Click Click

Click, click, click.  That’s all that Gabe would do.  On his computer in his dark, cold office space.  Click, click, click.  His eyes glued to the bright monitor while sitting on his lonesome in silence.  His wife and kids didn’t mind his hussle.  It’s become a simple routine to not bother Gabe while he works.  Click, click, click is what the family heard while walking past the wooden door that opened to an endless suffering of work.

The children would often ask when Gabe would finally come out of the cold void.  The mother, unaware of the true answer, would gladly just tell them, “He’ll be out soon,” and go about her day with a lump of hopelessness in her chest.  Suddenly, one day, the clicking stopped.  Years and years of unhealthy and forced labor, Gabe’s clicking suddenly stopped.  His tired fingers stopped moving, the room was in silence, and Gabe’s breath slowed as his head crashed onto the keyboard as he felt his life fading.  The silence was broken.  The mother had called out dinner time to Gabe like she usually would every night.  A tear fell from Gabe’s eyes.  The last thing he heard wasn’t a clicking keyboard, but the sound of his family.