resignation

He wrote yet another resignation letter. It was the fourteenth or the fortieth, he’d lost count. It sat on his computer for a week. He’d tried so many times to resign that he begun to believe it wasn’t possible. Year after year he’d written letters. Some got sent, some didn’t. It had become a kind of joke. There was always a reason why his boss or his circumstances twisted him around and the deadline passed and there he still was, at his desk, twiddling on the internet, wondering what he was doing there. This time he’d kept the letter short and simple. He pressed send, and the email whizzed all the way across the room to the desk where his ‘boss’, who’d begun by being his partner, sat. The recipient was away. The battle wasn’t over yet. It hadn’t even begun. He stared out of a Shoreditch window and wondered if this time, just this once, he might just pull it off.