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It’s hot here; I’m not sure why.
Sweat, dry neck rub, a business-white shirt with sleeves not quite long enough.
Obviously thinking in staccato snapshots as well today.

(Framing them into orderly minions, as Paivi might call them)

The suit is a little bit wrinkled, but not so much as to raise eyebrows or receive note.
Other voices behind, beside me. No quieter than usual, but subdued into a
creamy bokeh.
Stacey in the distance, around the corner, cheer bounces off the walls in a
zig zag
before reaching our cube here and settling in to
Sleep is either creeping up to or slinking away from me, but I can’t tell over the loud protests of my insides which are, like cats,
yowling to be fed.
Did I not eat yesterday? Grazing, more like.
(A tense switch, here, reduces lyrical tension.)
Over just beyond me, on a patient screen, Word waits with an underscored cursor and type too small to read –
Savage remains and disembodied remnants of a thought process gone by.



Edit: Ok, it was a really weird day/morning. Sue me ;) Just wanted to concentrate for a few minutes on what was going on around me, because that gets lost sometimes.


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