Therapy Bits

Jonas arrived at dawn, straightening his white collar as if it were armor. The office tower loomed, promising stability yet whispering of forgotten dreams. Inside, fluorescent lights flickered like tired fireflies. Jonas slid into his cubicle, fingers hovering above the keyboard, recalling the art studio he left behind. A message popped up: “Quarterly report due by noon.” He sighed, then opened a hidden sketchpad, letting charcoal lines reclaim a moment of truth. For a heartbeat, rebellion blossomed. When footsteps approached, he tucked the drawing away—but the spark remained, quietly insisting there was more to build than spreadsheets, and quiet hope.

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2025/11/02/white-collar/