"Goddamn." I looked at the shopping bag on my desk; looked at its contents. It was a strange feeling, knowing that this was it. My entire career - nearly my whole life! - was in that bag; a collection of ephemera and plastic tat.

I had spent the morning clearing my desk and going through its drawers, working out what to keep and what to get rid of. Old reports? In the bin. A children's menu and some colouring pencils? In the bag. A notebook containing passwords for a half-forgotten computer system? Pass them on, just in case. Slab of glass, awarded for some long-ago project?

"Hey! G-man!" I called across the room.

Geoffrey - G-man to those of us who had worked with him - looked up from the huddle he had been drawn into. I waved to catch his attention, and he sauntered over with all the grace of an elephant. "What is it?"

I held up the award. It was etched with logos and a message that some corporate drone had thought was inspirational. "What did we get this for?"

Geoffrey squinted over the top of his varifocal glasses. "Damned if I can remember." He took the slab of glass, turned it over in his hands and examined it. "When did we get this?"

"I don't know. Twenty years ago. Maybe more."

"Whatever it was, somebody must have thought it was important."

"Not that important if we can't remember what we got this for."

"Or care."

"You keep it," I said. "Put it in the trophy cabinet. Somewhere at the back. Where it belongs."

Geoffrey nodded. "Out of sight."

"And out of mind."

"Just like us."

We both laughed. Gallows humour.

Geoffrey reached out to shake my hand. "Well, look after yourself. It's going to be lonely without you. There aren't many of us left."

"Too weird to live, but too rare to die?"

We looked at each other, our hands clasped together, standing in awkward silence. Then, from the far end of the office came a loud voice: "Alright everyone! Gather 'round! I have an important announcement to make!"

We disengaged. "That," I said, "is my cue to leave."