(no subject)
The doorman opened the door as she stepped out of the spotless lobby onto the dirty, dark gray concrete of the sidewalk, carefully making sure the heels of her 4 inch canary yellow pumps didn't get stuck in the cracks of the old and weather beaten path. The interview went well, however she couldn't help but think she could have done better. Perhaps she could have answered the timeless question of "why do you want to work here" a little more enthusiastically, and even smiled a bit more. There was only one thing on her mind the entire time the woman with the bad dye job was speaking to her though, and that one thing was the rush that she felt when she was on stage. It was hard settling for a job where she would sit in a tiny cubicle and stare at a screen all day, typing away to the rythym of a dull and monotonous life, while wasting her creativity away.