He said she said.
He said he couldn't take it anymore. He said that everything about his life was a lie and that he just wanted a do over. He fell into some philosophical rant about how life was just game and wishing he could find the restart button or get the golden out of jail free card. He was talking nonsense to her, but some of it was interesting to keep for another day, just not today.
She couldn't say anything. She cried and muffled noises past the glass door. He couldn't hear her say that everything would get better. He couldn't hear her say that he needed to stop all of this madness and let her out. He didn't hear her say she could save him; she could help get his fresh start soon.
He laughed at her behind on the other side of the clock's glass door. He asked her what she thought that glass was made out of, calmly. He said he wondered if bullets or an explosion would even break that glass, He said he paid top dollar for it so he hoped it would, for her sake. He said that after this one of them should call the friend he bought the trap from and let him know how things went.
She just screamed at him to let her out. She screamed for him to run away with her and to forget the building and the raise and the ass holes sitting at their little cubicles. She said they weren't worth his effort or his brilliance. She quivered and said he was amazing and he could do amazing things if he put his mind to it.
He didn't hear her, but he read her. He said that he was doing something amazing. She asked what. He said he could read her lips. Dangling the little trigger in his hands he said that he loved her and that this would make everything better. She screamed it won't. Like most his life, he couldn't hear her past that glass door.