Fallout

He could feel it precisely, on his skin, between his palm and his cheek. He had unconsciously rubbed his hand over his face, two hours in front of his desktop and he didn't realise. It wasn't the work load or difficulty of the task but was the trust of his boss.
He bent a little to the left to glance at the distant window, half covered with shades, the only source of natural light in that brightly lit room. He knew what was the sensation about. No, it wasn't the wet touch, of the order the window pane might be sensing. Neither did he feel dry and blunt like every other day. It was that moisture on his skin and he could feel it penetrating deeper.
How did it get in here? It was sealed, air conditioned at 20 degrees room or rather entire floor. It had rained heavily and he didn't know for how long. It left its marks everywhere outside but how did it get on his skin. He suddenly felt his pulse rate falling. It got in through some unknown little crevices and sat right on top of his skin. That wasn't just moisture, it was damp, it was stingy. It had crept all the way inside and overpowered everything. How??!!!
He had been caught off guard and he felt naked. Nothing was safe, he wasn't safe. His own might was confronting him now.