The cards made his eyes burn as they flipped by in threes. Red King, Black Queen, Red Jack, and blue five....black five.... all began to blur. Don's eyelids slid over his burning eyeballs to cool them. It felt so pleasant each time they closed that after a time, no more than six minutes had passed, they refused to open again.

The heavy lunch exhausted his already tired soul and he was not accustomed to having so much work to do. He spent two hours that morning staring at a report, searching for the exact word to summarize his thought and prove to his boss once and for all, that he was a true team player who was highly productive while he remained awake. He wanted to prove that he was a truly high-performance workman.

Don produced many more games of Solitaire than reports in his career, and was experienced in the line of "waiting for ideas" while in the office. He constantly corrected and refined his reports and maximized his allotted budget dollars in the use of correction fluids, erasers and lift off ribbons. No work on paper ever escaped his desk without having been erased into onion skin thinness and then fortified with several coats of white paint. These were works of art and one could only be amazed by the effort if one could only peer through the individual layers of ink, corrections and revisions.

He felt a heaviness lay over him like a snug, comfortable blanket. His hand could barely move the mouse as he stared stupidly and blankly at the screen. His eyes closed to rest, briefly. Each time they slid down, the feeling of peace and tranquillity tempted him. It encouraged him to remain in the dark and to refresh himself. He heard his breath pass and out in a perfect rhythm like an ocean wave. The intake of breath was like the crest of the wave meeting the shore and he felt himself floating in the warm water. As the air left his lungs like the sea running from shore, he felt himself drop gently down and settle on the sand, caressed and kissed by the warm sun.

Don's eyes lost their power to open, his head surrendered to gravity and was filled with the wonderful images of naughty queens of hearts chasing him in fields of clubs and spades. The colors cascaded in bright waterfalls of colorful cards, splashing against stones of black and gray and red.

He tripped over a stone as the Queen of Spades pursued him, giggling and mocking his fear of capture. The Nine of Diamonds, strong and upright, blocked his escape as the Jack of Diamonds, grinning, stood behind as if intending to do harm.

He felt himself falling after tripping on a club that had secreted itself and his head landed hard against a spade, spilling diamonds everywhere. The colors vanished as the cards turned their edges to him and began to whisper and shimmer before his eyes. They cascaded in a blinding white display, bouncing across the screen. He tried to say, "I didn't win" but his tongue and lips could not form the sentence.

"I did not win! I did not win! I did not win!" But the cards continued their crazy waterfall and he felt frozen in place, rooted to the spot where he lay, as cards everywhere tumbled down on him.

Don seldom dreamed during his frequent afternoon naps because his mind exhausted its stock of images during his midmorning snooze, but today's work had driven him over the edge and his excited mind was in high gear.

His head struck the intercom button and, as his coworkers stood around him, he broadcast his somnolence throughout the building. It was the rasp of his snore that brought everyone to his office to see him splendidly asleep.

Finally, a tall man with a look as hard as steel, Don's boss came forward to wake him.

He raised his head and cried in alarm when he could not see. He knew his eyes were open, yet everything was white, blindingly white. The smell of correction fluid was strong and some of it painted a nostril.

Worst of all was that a bottle of Wite-Out® was missing its cap and brush. He last remembered it in his left hand just before the final loss of sensation. The laughter of his colleagues was sharp and animated when they saw the brush stuck to his head.

The cards made his eyes burn as they flipped by in threes. Red King, Black Queen, Red Jack, and blue five....black five.... all began to blur. Don's eyelids slid over his burning eyeballs to cool them. It felt so pleasant each time they closed that after a time, no more than six minutes had passed, they refused to open again.

The heavy lunch exhausted his already tired soul and he was not accustomed to having so much work to do. He spent two hours that morning staring at a report, searching for the exact word to summarize his thought and prove to his boss once and for all, that he was a true team player who was highly productive while he remained awake. He wanted to prove that he was a truly high-performance workman.

Don produced many more games of Solitaire than reports in his career, and was experienced in the line of "waiting for ideas" while in the office. He constantly corrected and refined his reports and maximized his allotted budget dollars in the use of correction fluids, erasers and lift off ribbons. No work on paper ever escaped his desk without having been erased into onion skin thinness and then fortified with several coats of white paint. These were works of art and one could only be amazed by the effort if one could only peer through the individual layers of ink, corrections and revisions.

He felt a heaviness lay over him like a snug, comfortable blanket. His hand could barely move the mouse as he stared stupidly and blankly at the screen. His eyes closed to rest, briefly. Each time they slid down, the feeling of peace and tranquillity tempted him. It encouraged him to remain in the dark and to refresh himself. He heard his breath pass and out in a perfect rhythm like an ocean wave. The intake of breath was like the crest of the wave meeting the shore and he felt himself floating in the warm water. As the air left his lungs like the sea running from shore, he felt himself drop gently down and settle on the sand, caressed and kissed by the warm sun.

Don's eyes lost their power to open, his head surrendered to gravity and was filled with the wonderful images of naughty queens of hearts chasing him in fields of clubs and spades. The colors cascaded in bright waterfalls of colorful cards, splashing against stones of black and gray and red.

He tripped over a stone as the Queen of Spades pursued him, giggling and mocking his fear of capture. The Nine of Diamonds, strong and upright, blocked his escape as the Jack of Diamonds, grinning, stood behind as if intending to do harm.

He felt himself falling after tripping on a club that had secreted itself and his head landed hard against a spade, spilling diamonds everywhere. The colors vanished as the cards turned their edges to him and began to whisper and shimmer before his eyes. They cascaded in a blinding white display, bouncing across the screen. He tried to say, "I didn't win" but his tongue and lips could not form the sentence.

"I did not win! I did not win! I did not win!" But the cards continued their crazy waterfall and he felt frozen in place, rooted to the spot where he lay, as cards everywhere tumbled down on him.

Don seldom dreamed during his frequent afternoon naps because his mind exhausted its stock of images during his midmorning snooze, but today's work had driven him over the edge and his excited mind was in high gear.

His head struck the intercom button and, as his coworkers stood around him, he broadcast his somnolence throughout the building. It was the rasp of his snore that brought everyone to his office to see him splendidly asleep.

Finally, a tall man with a look as hard as steel, Don's boss came forward to wake him.

He raised his head and cried in alarm when he could not see. He knew his eyes were open, yet everything was white, blindingly white. The smell of correction fluid was strong and some of it painted a nostril.

Worst of all was that a bottle of Wite-Out® was missing its cap and brush. He last remembered it in his left hand just before the final loss of sensation. The laughter of his colleagues was sharp and animated when they saw the brush stuck to his head.