Joe was an average kind of guy. Average mundane job, average kind of hair, average kind of apartment. How many times had acquaintances jokingly addressed him as "Average Joe?" He laid his head on his cubicle's desk and sighed. The sigh turned into a moan. Joe bounced his forehead on the desk and closed his eyes.
"Joe, let's get to work. We're paid for eight hours so lets give eight hours."
"Alright, boss."
He hated that mantra, but Joe sat up, screwed his eyes on his work and began rattling his fingers over the keyboard. Five o'clock couldn't come soon enough.
When he finally stepped outside the air was chilly and the sun was a sliver on the horizon. Joe stepped off the sidewalk, but for some unexplainable reason he didn't look up to check the traffic.
The last thing Joe heard was the crunching of glass as it cracked and rippled, and the last feeling he could remember was the satisfaction of knowing that for once in his life he was experiencing something other than average.