CTSBR 3.1

The rain patters against the window of my office as I sit at my desk, filling out tedious paperwork. The faint smell of cigarette smoke hangs in the air, illuminated by the neon lights of the nearby buildings. I take a brief break and head to the restroom, splashing cold water on my face. I look in the mirror, my black eyes staring back at me, and I ask myself the same question, my voice hoarse and dry: "Is this story really random?"