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Office Lady

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You wish that you could fling your pinching red heels out the window, untwist your auburn hair from the tight knot upon your head, and slouch in your chair.  You consider banging your head dramatically onto the table, hair fanning wildly around your face. 

“It must be the heat,” you sigh, “it is so stuffy in here,”acting only in hopes of gaining access to the fresh autumn air outside.
Maybe everyone’s life is like this - you sigh - they are constantly placating an unyielding boss and just click-click-clicking away at a computer key. Maybe everyone stares at the rubbery walls of their closet-sized cubicle, desperately striving for happiness, only to lose happiness in the process of trying to gain it.
A few seconds later, the sharp scent of citrus filled the air.  The overpowering smell clouds your judgement, and out of nervous habit you chug down your double espresso in an unladylike manner. A thin, tall figure with a cream colored silk suit sashays forward. Meticulously arranged tight blonde curls bounce around her head like springs. Her complexion is as smooth as freshly churned butter, and her toffee gray eyes are slanted in calculation.
In the split second she catches your eye, her lips upturned into a belittling grin.
“Remember how when we first met I said we were going to be like sisters?” she slowly purred.
You would feel truly sorry right now for any animal sitting in your shoes. You envy the beautiful blackbird scraping its wings against the sky outside your window. Not doing, but simply being a rebellious dream. Pursue its wishes without being ridiculed and laughed at by society.  Not following the beaten yellow brick road to achieve success and happiness.  Your reverie is interrupted by the tap, tap, tap of a black patent leather Prada shoe against white tile.




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