At first, Greg didn’t notice. He was too busy calculating Q3 losses. But then—a dampness. A cold, creeping kiss against the toe of his right loafer. He looked down.

For Greg, a mid-level accountant with a fondness for thrift-store ties and over-brewed coffee, his moment arrived on a Tuesday. Not a dramatic, stormy Tuesday, but a beige, forgettable Tuesday in March. The kind of Tuesday that tricks you into letting your guard down.

But for the rest of the afternoon, whenever he heard a faint gurgle from the building’s walls, he smiled. He had faced the urinal clog—and won.

Greg tried the flush. Nothing. A gurgle, then a belch, then a thick, syrupy stillness. The water level didn't drop. It smiled at him.