First Fiction short story (ever)

He barely lifted his head up off his giant dark cherry wood desk covered in papers,awaking from another good time the night before,he sees the sun creeping in from the thick wooden blinds in his office it makes his head hurt even worse,he draws his wrist in to see the time on his gold Rolex watch and knocks over the small thick glass of liquid all over his desk. He mumbles a few curse words but don’t have the energy for much else.

He puts his hands down flat on the desk to assist him in pushing himself up out of his chair as he stands up he brushes off the remains of the white powdery substance that dusted his Armani blazer,as he walks towards the window he can’t help but notices how his degree on the wall stands out because without it the wall would be empty, he admires his freshly painted burgundy wine walls that define his franklin sofa and chairs, looking up at the tray ceiling begins to make him dizzy, but he gets distracted by the chatter and laughter outside he gently peeks through his wooden blinds as if he’s trying to be sneaky and sees two small children with their parents playing in water fountain in front of his downtown office, he slowly looks away and walks back over to his desk sits back down bleakly staring at the beautiful freshly painted wall in front of him. The silence of the dark room overwhelms him with grief no one has ever been so truthful.