Reality is sharpest in the morning, before my farce of a job has time to beat me into sullen submission.
I wake in the grass beneath the trees, an escape from my corporate captivity. I drive, though the train is faster, savoring the comparative freedom of sitting in my hardly-moving car. I choose the least helpful escalator and exhaust myself in a rapid ascent. I spend the minutes afforded by my haste briefly savouring a book. I then trudge resignedly into the lobby and complacently travel skyward to the thirteenth floor. I walk trance-like through the static, hauntingly familiar halls. With my words and my smiles I lie to well-meaning colleagues as they make their oft-repeated how are you's, unaware of the danger of receiving an honest answer.
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6 comments:
I've often wondered how well-meaning strangers who ask, "How are you?" would react if they were to receive a genuine reply to that some days...
Perhaps we should get that prescription for antidepressants refilled.
Do you really work on the thirteenth floor? That's flippin' sweet.
Sure do, though the elevator calls it the "penthouse".
aww jonny roo i don't think people should lie about how they are. i would so much rather hear the honest answer and the why, than a fake 'im great' because beyond truthfulness what else is there, truly?
Margarita, you are sweet, and thank you. I won't lie to you about how I feel.
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