Flurries of year-enders float and settle
The wires quiet
Nothing to report
Trees are falling in forests, where everyone is on holidays
No-one wants to know
Nothing happens without reporters
I joke like last year.
Those left at work never laugh; bored, busy enough, resentful, resigned, ruefully cheerful, explicitly mercenary
They get through the hours, timestamp the obscure days' events
'May as well be working'
'I don't mind, really'
New parents, mortgage-captives, ladder-climbers, the lonely, the powerless ignored, necessary B-grade bosses,
The lull before the hiatus
and all through the culture ...
Postponed reading looming
Saved Links stacked
Happenings unscheduled go unheeded,
slacken obligated attention and
Wake pre-dawn and imitator birds are hard at it,
all work, no play, no breaks
no look-backs, no dread nostalgia
in the perpetual now job
You should put up that feature about going off-grid - they did leave you in charge, after all.