Note to world #7754

It was a particularly lazy Sunday.

In fact – that day – the closest she would come to cooking would be when she made a cup of coffee using her nespresso machine.

Three times.

In a row.

And once again after a sluggish afternoon nap.

the couch

It was a deep navy. velvet. and so deep you could get lost in its crevices.

it had once been the couch in the waiting room of the most powerful man in the company. a man who purposely kept the anteroom to his office extra warm so you would sweat just sitting there.

the man fell, eventually, from his position – and because the new power structure had other methods for tormenting people, the couch was moved into a makeshift storage room in the attic of the ancient building.

she found it when she was asked to take a different office too – a tiny dark room that looked out onto the back alley of finance – and the facilities guys, feeling a bit sorry for her, had let her wander around to gather odds and ends for the dank space.

she remembered the couch from her own time on it – the unnatural warmth and embrace of the sofa had never bothered her because she was always too chilly and always too small for the adult office environment – facts that had been to her advantage during many tense meetings with her hot and uncomfortably agitated male counterparts.

and now the disgraced couch sat in her small dim office where she continued to toil under new management. she would tell the story of the couch to anyone who stopped long enough to sit on it.

and there was something that seemed right about her rescue of this small part of the company’s history – as if though she was salvaging her own role in it as well.

Note to world #4438

She impulsively bought a new shampoo called VERB – because well, she was a word person and what better product ? and also she wanted to imagine that maybe it would put her hair into an active state on top of her head.