Fresh out of college with a degree in Literature I had spent just about forever braving lectures for, I felt as if everything was finally falling into place. With a couple of job interviews and recommendations under my belt, personally, I had a really good feeling about my future prospects. It seemed as if the opportunities came at me like rainbow skittles being thrown into the air, and all I had to do was keep my mouth open and catch them between my lips. The world was my oyster, and I was just about ready to slurp everything up. I could do anything.

Well, except Math. I couldn’t have any of those grades on my resume.

I walked with a lightness in my step that felt like the auburn leaves being carried away by the gentle caress of the wind. The steam wafting out of the Starbucks cup within my grasp eddied upwards, taking the shape of the white tuffs of cotton set in the clear blue sky. As the automated doors slid open, a wave of cold air washed against my face and my feet clicked against the ivory marble instead of the gum-filled grey concrete. The interior of the building was a familiar sight; the orange sofas and coffee table in the corner, the round reception desk smack in the middle of the lobby, even the girl behind the counter had become more than just a nameless face. (She had a first name now, which was a great improvement after almost a year of calling her ‘front desk female’.) (If only my literature professor could see me then, he probably would’ve coughed up blood at my lack of creativity.)

I raised my cup in greeting and the girl (Rebecca, I reminded myself) perked up and gave a little wave. Her actions were a reminisce of the small puppy I owned when I was ten, what with her beady eyes that lit up like the sun when she got attention, and her hair the colour of a coat of Golden Retriever fur. I imagined her at her desk, her tongue hanging out of her blood red lips and her whole body shaking as she panted, and guffawed out loud, earning a couple of second glances and weird looks. I pressed the button for the 30th floor and sipped my coffee as I watched the red digits change. With a ding, the doors slid open, revealing rows of cubicles flanking the carpeted walkway. One Conversed step at a time, I made my way towards the back of the room. The people at the desks looked up occasionally, only to see the casually dressed female crossing the area without a care, and lowered their gaze back towards their computer screens.

I stepped, or rather, burst into the room, the door slamming against the wall and almost falling off its hinges from the impact.

“Guess who decided to grace you with her presence!” I sang. Whether I was on pitch or not, I’d never know.

He jumped from his seat and screamed. Like literally screamed, complete with his perfectly manicured female-like fingers on