“I’m not happy about all this,” Gibson said to his coworkers as they all sat together in the break room at work, drinking coffee and discussing the new project coming up that would take them off of lunch for the next week. “But it could be worse. I mean, you guys know me well enough to know that I don’t have a good attitude when I’ve been assigned to an especially stressful case, and we really do need this new client on our side right now.” He nodded to himself, looking more than a little pleased with himself. Gibson was a man of many talents. The way he thought through things was unmatched amongst their group of lawyers, and no one else had ever shown quite the ability to read people the way he did. That made him an ideal choice for the team of three lawyers tasked with finding out exactly what the hell happened at the bank, and if there were any witnesses who might be willing to testify against the alleged murderer, or at least give some indication of where they could be found. ‘We

As Gibson sat in his office, his thoughts returned to how he got into this position in the first place. It had started with a simple question, as most of his jobs did, “Do you have any books about a character named John Smith?” And as if that weren’t enough, a series of small encounters followed by one really long one and a very awkward one at the end led to him being offered a job here. He had turned it down, he wanted nothing to do with it. But now, sitting behind this desk, looking at the stacks of paper that covered his walls, he couldn’t turn it down again. He needed this gig. A chance to make some money. And who better to work for than his own favorite character. The storyteller John Smith who, according to all the papers, was fictional. He knew this, but still it didn't stop him from writing. He had already written the first draft and it had been rejected, so what else would he have left to write? He wasn’t allowed back at university yet, which is why he worked here instead o

Gibson read through the book he found on his office desk and grimaced at it. There was no reason to be upset about it, really, but he couldn’t help himself - he had been doing so well with this one! He had made a decent dent in his stack of files, he even had written half of what he needed for the article, which meant that he had to do something else soon! It wasn’t like him to let things drag out like this, but after last night - well, if there was anything that could get the better of him, it was stress, and stress sucked. He should have known better than to get distracted by that guy’s phone number, though! He didn’t deserve the chance, not when Gibson was just beginning to work his way up. But it was all gone now. He had forgotten the date, and he could barely remember any details from before he went home last night, and the only time he had remembered them was during the day. And then, well, then there were all those people who were still in his head - the ones who kept talking

Gibson couldn’t feel his arms again as he had over used them at the his workplace earlier that day. He had tried to carry a huge amount of paperwork for his boss’s office when he had gotten home, but it had been too much, and had dropped everything. The paper had made little to no dent in his overall mass, so he’d put on a shirt to protect it from the cold of the night. When it started to rain while he was on his way back to the office, however, he had lost all hope of getting the papers back to his boss before the storm began. So here he was again. He sighed and walked around the corner of an apartment building with no door visible, trying to get some cover from the rain by leaning against one of its walls. It seemed like the right decision, however, as he could see that the entrance to the apartment building was only five feet away, so it was just about possible for him to get inside without the water being wet through. He pushed off from the wall and started walking towards the ent

Gibson left his office very early that night and decided to go out to dinner with a friend. It was something he always did when the day started to drag on and it was still relatively new for him. He wasn't used to working long hours and so he enjoyed being able to go out without any work in tow. Plus, his friend could be a bit of an eccentric and they had never gotten along too well but they also understood each other. And since his best friend was a journalist and his own editor, their friendship worked like a magnet.He went to his usual restaurant and picked a spot near the window because it looked out over a small garden. There were few people milling around outside and most lights inside were off. This made it easy for him to sit with his back against the wall and enjoy his meal before heading home. As he ate he saw two young ladies approach one another and start talking animatedly while giggling about whatever. He smiled to himself as he continued chewing, watching them with amu