This was all rather depressing, but fortunately, this is not the point of this story. This story is about one man. His name was Thomas. He was twenty-five years old, average height, had thick, brown hair, green eyes, glasses, and was just plain fed up with the world. Everything he saw was all depressing, all the time. And what's worse, he had the horrible feeling that soon, the entire mess of it all would result in several major cities exploding into giant, fiery balls that would be visible from space. This, of course, was a very bad thing. But Thomas tried not to think about that too much. Indeed, he spent very little time thinking about anything except for work...
Beep beep beep beep beep!
Thomas groaned and wondered what time it was. He looked over at the clock and groaned again when he got his answer: 5:00 AM. He groaned once more as he swung his legs onto the floor and sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes. He felt as if he hadn't gotten any sleep at all. This was, of course, entirely possible. He wasn't quite sure when he had gotten to bed last night. All he remembered was doing paperwork until the numbers became indistinguishable from letters, at which point he decided that it probably wasn't wise to continue working. He got up and stumbled towards the bathroom, mentally reviewing his to-do list.
Finish checking and organizing papers. Transfer key points of speech to note cards. Grab something for breakfast. Catch the subway. Stop over on 33rd to pick up the dry cleaning. Get to office before 8:00. Thomas stopped moving his toothbrush back and forth. Something caught his eye. Could it be... No, that wasn't possible. He spit then looked again. Maybe it was... He leaned in towards the mirror to get a closer look.
"Gotta be kidding me..." Thomas said quietly. He looked intently and saw that it was, indeed, a gray hair. "I'm overworked," Thomas muttered as he exited the bathroom. He quickly got dressed, deciding to wear a navy colored suit instead of his usual black. After taking care of the papers and note cards, he ran to the kitchen to grab something to eat. A bagel sounded good. Thomas reached for an onion bagel, then realized he had already brushed, and grabbed a plain one instead. He found his briefcase and threw everything in. He started to run out the door, then paused and laughed at himself. He opened the briefcase again, pulled the bagel back out, and took a bite as he left and locked the door behind him.