Time was relative. Though the seconds, minutes, and hours, in their empirical definitions, remained the same for all, the dimension of their felt existence varied wildly from one individual to the next. For many Ministry officials, time seemed to have been hexed to move as painfully slow as human thresholds could bear. For one particular employee, however, time appeared to have no effect on his faculties or his energies. He'd been at his desk since the morning, feverishly hacking away at the typewriter, and had not even stepped out for lunch as he'd been wont to do, instead accepting a meagre bag lunch that an intern had brought in for him. Even then, the tiny bowl of soup had gotten cold, and the cold sandwich had gotten warm, both still unwrapped and in the bag. His attention was too wholly engrossed in his current project, a behemoth of a proposal that he'd been working on for the past month. The arduous cycle of meetings, research, drafts, proposals, and revisions were finally about to bear fruit. This cusp he was entering was electric, a spark he fed on in lieu of physical sustenance. It was work like this that had him shoot up the ranks within his department, the success of which could further boost his rise to head a sub-department within the next year, a position that had been dangling in front of him for quite some time. A final revision of this clause and all he needed to do after was--
"Ow!" Jonathan smacked his forehead, grabbing the paper aeroplane that had just dived its point between his brows. Grabbing the note, he unfolded the sheet and read its contents. As he read each word, the focused pout he wore earlier relaxed and shifted to an ever widening grin. The second he finished reading, he swung out of his seat and made a mad dash out of his office, sprinting out into the corridors, leaving knocked stacks of paper and stupefied faces in his wake. The clause could wait another day, and the position could dangle a little longer. Something else was to be given extremely high priority…
...
It was nearing the end of the day shift, and already people were gathering their belongings, ready to bolt the moment the clock chimed. Jonathan was casually stepping into the lift, never having returned back to his work. Instead, he came in carrying a few white boxes of varying sizes, nested on top of each other, the smallest no larger than a pill box, and the largest about the size of a picnic basket. A curious scent wafted from a number of them, enough for some of the officials in the lift to twitch their noses and cast a dubious look at the young Emerson. Jonathan paid them no mind, eager to get back to his office with his new gifts. However, someone had stopped at the floor for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and a name popped into Jonathan's head. Chuckling now, he followed the wizard onto the floor, making his way over to the offices and cubicles of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad.
With a gleeful zip in his stride, and sauntered about as he balanced the boxes in his arms. In a surprisingly high soprano--especially given his normally deep voice--Jonathan sung out for his victim friend, as loud and as embarrassing as he could. "Keeeennndrick! Oh, Keeeennndriiiick! Wherefore art thou Kendrick?"
