This is the job that will kill me.

My head and jaw throb and my gums pulse without mercy from where the dentist yanked out my two lower wisdom teeth on Tuesday. The painkillers help abate the misery, but if I expect to accomplish anything at work, I have to restrict my intake. I open and close my mouth like a wheezing guppy and notice subtle sidewise glances from the three other people in the elevator. Fuck 'em. Mercy or misery comes with sound of the dreaded ding, the doors open, and there I am at work. Again.

I haven't even taken five steps off the elevator and onto the drab gray carpeting when Lois appears at my side. She falls into step with me, clasping her clipboard as her heart locket necklace jangles from her anxious stride. She is a freshly scrubbed chemistry experiment of soap, hairspray, and cheap perfume.

'Are you okay, sweetie?'� She indicates her mouth.

'Um, yeah.'� I caress my lower jaw. 'Dentist.'�

'Oh, right, I hope that feels better soon.'�

'Thanks.'�

'Did they give you anything to fight off an infection?'�

'Yeah, antibiotics, painkillers, you know - teeth taken out of my head, drugs taking me out of my head.'� It's too early to be this clever.

'Uh, good.'� She pauses awkwardly as she contemplates my drug comment, and with a cheerleader-like smile, adds, 'Don't want an infection.'�

'Most certainly not.'�

'Well, I'm reminding everyone about the 2:00 meeting,'� she says in her most professional voice.

'Why?'� I ask, deadpan.

'Why?'� A beat. She is perplexed. 'Because'� they told me to remind everyone'�'�

'They?'� A small, wicked smile escapes and appears on my otherwise placid face.

'You know, the bosses, the higher-ups. The big men - and lady.'�

'Right, them. Okay.'� I'm sleepwalking.

'I'm telling everyone as they come in before they get busy, or I forget!'�

'Great.'� I'm vaguely aware of my coffee in its cardboard cup, hot in my hand.

'The meeting's scheduled for Conference Room A at 2:00.'�

'2:00. A. Today. A-okay.'� I maneuver through a doorway and down the short access hall into the grand arena where the day's skirmish shall ensue. Lois dogs my heels. I wonder if she likes me. I consider her for a moment. Lois: older, lonesome, frumpy, clingy.

'Oh, and happy birthday.'� She smiles, touches my arm.

'Huh?'� I'd almost forgotten that another year had recently passed me by. 'That was last week.'� I feel guilty for being brusque with Lois. I turn and try to appear gracious through my drowsy malaise.

'I know, but I forgot to tell you, so I'm telling you now while I remember.'�

'Thanks, Lois.'�

'Did you do anything special?'� She's just not going to go away.

'Huh?'�

'On your birthday. Do anything special?'�

'Um, no, I mean, yeah, I met up with some'� friends.'� I flash my least contrived smile to disguise the lie ' it likely looks like a drunken sneer. I slink away, sip at the coffee, and it washes warm over my suffering gums. Lois and her tart perfume and hairspray bouquet are gone.

I was home when the parents called with birthday wishes. I forced exuberance and told them I had to leave, that I planned to meet friends at a lounge. After my mother warned me against excessive alcohol consumption, we hung up and I went to the refrigerator. A six-pack of domestic beer and a bottle of bottom shelf vodka - functional birthday presents I bought for myself. I drank. On the sofa in front of a flickering television, the evening blurred into night blurred into sleep blurred into patches of morning light that smudged my waking sight. When I got up, I dumped the bottles into the garbage, the scent of stale alcohol making my stomach churn. I popped some Ibuprofen, showered, and found my way out into the swarming sprawl of the city.

The memory of a solitary birthday is replaced by the wash of white noise. Flooded on all sides, it spirals like sludge through the choked-up drain in my skull, a congested slow motion whirlpool. The subliminal hum of fluorescents, the ring of phones, the click-clack of keyboards, the error beep, the chew and spew of fax machine, the copy machine's drone, it's insidious, it's inescapable. The jackets and ties and starched shirts, the cologne, hairsprays and gels. The coffee. The insincere laughter. The rustling of papers. Coughs and sneezes. I feel feral. There is a shriek muffled behind my eyes but my demeanor is office-friendly sedated.

This feeling won't be flushed away with a cup of coffee.

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