The most important breath

His breath came in short gasps as the restriction in his throat grew
tighter.

The gentle savour of pasta, peas and corn was quickly replaced by the
realisation that without rapid movement his ability to recover without help
would disappear. Alone in his office, no one was due back to disrupt his
lunchtime reverie for another forty minutes. His final moments fittingly
synonymous with the Dilbert email spread across his screen.

A vision flashed before his eyes of his body being found, slumped over the
keyboard with endless pages of nonsensical text scrolling down the screen,
a form of ironic eulogy composed by his face mashed into the keyboard.

A short sharp gasp and hard forceful cough and the terror of asphyxiation
was replaced by the need to search for some paper towel to remove the
embarrassing jetsam of a mouthful of lunch from his desk.

(Someone once told me that the only thing that separates us from eternity
is our next breath. Hope you enjoyed your lunch today, I eventually did!)