Day 345

The office was stuffy, the air was a thick haze of heat and sweat from the staff therein.
A sign that had once read "Opening Hours" now lay in a damp crumpled heap on the floor.
You didn't remember what the opening hours even were, it felt like you'd never left.
It felt like this place had never opened or closed, it just was.

Customers were few and far between, drifting through in varying states of shock and disarray.
The damned things rarely had the right forms with them, preferring to stare with blank terror.
You had the faint feeling that you had served these people many, many times.
One drifted towards you presently, shirt tattered and skin greying round the edges.

F-f-for̀m̵ ͡sigǹed̵. ͡N̸áme͡ p͡r̢in̴te̢d i͢ņ ͢c-͝c̛-c-͡c̷a̕pi̢t͠a͠ls̛. P̵l̕ea͡s̡e͟ r͞e͡s̶po͘n͠d̛-͠d-͜ḑ.́
It felt like centuries since you had been given a completed form, you'd forgotten what to do with it.
Come to think, you never really did anything with the forms, your desk was coated in them.
They spilled from every surface, every drawer and many staff mouths were crammed with them.

A compulsion came over you to ask what the Customer's name was, some security protocol.
N-n-n͏am̸e̶ o͢n̵ ͢fǫr͠m̛.͠ For͝m ͝s͡í-i̛-i-͝g͢n͜e̵d.̸ ̀Asķ n͢o҉ q-̶q̡-ue͝s̸t̸io͝n̕s.͠ ̕Send o҉n̷-n-n-n.͡
Your hand automatically reached for the paper on your lap, plucking a sheet at random.
The Customer gazed sadly at the form as you told it to fill it out and speak to Server 45.

You had no idea who Server 45 was but you always sent customers on to them.
Whatever 45 did, it only angered the Customer and the only thing you knew for sure sprung to mind.
T H E  C U S T O M E R  I S  A L W A Y S  R I G H T
45 bled a lot more than 12 had, must be because he was so young, 12 was nothing but bones.

When the Customer was finished shredding Server 45, it sat down in the Customer seat and waited.
Just like 12's had, you thought to yourself, sparing a glance over to the still waiting being.
You turned your attention back to your desk, shuffling papers and trying to read the glyphs.
Time had passed, that much you were aware of as you pondered the concept of a "lunch break".

You don't remember ever having one but the idea was tantalising, even if your shift felt eternal.
Maybe your shift was eternal, you couldn't say for sure as it felt like centuries and minutes always.
While you wondered what you would do in a "lunch break" a bloody form was slapped onto the desk.
The Customer had returned from Server 45 with a new form, one you'd never seen before.

It was signed with fresh glyphs and made the already warm air literally boil around it.
N-̧n-̡nam͝e̵ ́o̶n͝ ͞f̸o̷rm͞. For̨m͘ s̨i-i-͡i-̢gne͘d̶. ͟A̛s̀k̕ ̡n͜o q̷-q̨-̨ues̡ti͘ons.̵ S̢e͢n̕d ̸o͡n͜-̴n-n-́n͟. 45 ͞is ҉v-̵v-v-va̢can͢t-̡t̸.͘
You don't want to be as vacant as 12 and 45 so you do the unthinkable.
You send the Customer to the Next Room, filled with the sounds of flesh being torn and laughter.