Marbles on Glass
12. Trash
The chairs were all out of place. Abandoned halfway through their path, they formed weird angles with the desks.
Those on the walls, on the other hand, were no longer monitors; they were pitch black, stuck in broadcasting long strings of static.
Computers and keyboards alike were missing parts — papers, keys, the touch of human hands. It was all long gone, buried by dust.
The rooms held them all, remains of discarded people.
She was not supposed to see it. Still, it couldn't be hidden — muffled by the glass, the signs were all there for her to see.
She shivered.