A lone figure sat in a dimly lit office, fingers flying across the keyboard. The soft hum of the computer and the rhythmic click-clack of keys were the only sounds breaking the oppressive silence of the room.
The young man, dressed in a crisp black suit and neatly tied tie, was the last remaining employee in the entire building. His coworkers had long since left, eager to return home to their families, their warm beds, or simply anything but work. Yet, here he was—still bound to his desk, eyes glued to the glowing monitor, locked in battle with a stubborn manuscript.
His brows furrowed. He was tired—no, exhausted—and on top of that, utterly annoyed. But he couldn't stop. Not yet.
