The Passionate Slaver

Max had been living in the city for a long time. He wasn't sure how long, because once you've lived in your flat for so long, you tend to lose track of days and months. But he was certain that it had been at least 10 years since he moved in. And during those years, Max had settled into quite the routine:

*Mornings*: Wake up. Make breakfast – usually toast with butter or peanut butter. Read the paper while drinking a cup of coffee. Go to work. Work until lunchtime. *Afternoons*: Go home and make lunch – usually some sort of sandwich. If not, buy something from the deli on the corner. Eat lunch while reading some more of the paper. Go back to work. *Evenings*: Go home. Make dinner – usually a simple pasta dish with vegetables or chicken if he had enough money left over from the day's expenses. Watch TV or read a book or both until bedtime*

Max thought back to his old life before he moved here. He was always busy then, doing work for other people or running errands or whatever it was he did back then. He vaguely remembered having a family, but couldn't recall what they looked like or even knew if they were still alive or not. It didn't really matter, anyways; if they were alive, they would have visited him by now, right?

After all those years in his flat, Max finally learned to love solitude and quietness, and he began to welcome them as an old friend greeting him after a long day's work. But even though these well-worn routines brought him comfort and peace, today was different. Today was *different*.

It started just like any other day; Max woke up from his sound sleep at around 8 AM, ate his usual breakfast of toast with peanut butter and drank his usual cup of coffee with a shot of bourbon added in for good taste and spirits, then shuffled off to his job at the law firm across town where he worked as a paralegal for one Mr. Mondino. Just like every other day, Max plopped himself down at his desk and started working through the pile of paperwork in front of him while sipping his morning coffee and chewing on his morning toast – first one bite each time he took a sip of coffee; no need to rush things now. The morning passed quite uneventfully, until it was time for lunch break at 12 PM sharp – Mr. Mondino believed in punctuality – so Max went to the nearby deli on the corner and bought himself a grilled chicken sandwich with lettuce and tomatoes on rye bread with a side of fries. The owner waved at him as he walked in; apparently this place was part of his routine too.

When he got back to work after lunch break, though, something felt... different about his office building today. Not exactly different per se; just different than usual somehow? Normally when you're in an office building full of hundreds upon hundreds of people all trying to get their jobs done without getting fired or otherwise harassed by their boss who's probably looking over their shoulder all the time judging them by how much work they can do within this hour that they're getting paid for (and also judging them by how anxious they look while doing it), there is always some kind of noise somewhere that keeps you company while you're working through your job-related tasks: people talking amongst themselves to pass the time when they're waiting for someone else to finish whatever it is that they're doing right now (or maybe just gossiping about someone else), phones ringing every so often because someone needs help finding something on their computer or needs advice on what color tie they should wear tomorrow (or sometimes they call just because they want to talk with someone), printers humming away in their own little world as stacks of paper fly out from them every so often because someone wants another copy of that same document that is already being used as toilet paper somewhere else... all sorts of little things going on around you that tell you that life is happening somewhere along with all this boring job-like stuff that you have to do every day before you can go home and eat something hot out of the oven before watching some TV show about crime-solving detectives who always track down their criminal before 9 PM tonight so that you can go to bed without thinking about any more work tomorrow morning... but today... today...

Max looked around his office building, which seemed eerily quiet compared to what it normally sounded like during work hours; everyone seemed occupied doing important tasks related to whatever it is they did here every single day (or pretending to anyway). There were no phones ringing either; nothing but silence reigned supreme throughout the whole office except for one thing: *that strange woman who kept staring at him whenever she walked past him within these last few minutes.*

She looked like she was in her early twenties (which meant she could be younger than Max!) with deep, piercing