Braving the icy north, Tony toils away at his workstation. “Compute, damn you!” he mutters into his thinning notebook. His fingers carefully scrawl the runes of a foreign language called “math”. Somewhere, a watch beeps. His bloodshot eyes peer up at the nearest clock. With a dry chuckle, he realizes that he’s now a year older. “Happy birthday to me…” he breathes as turns back to his stubborn figures. The watch ticks on.
Or maybe he’s watching The Office; I don’t know.