sunshine :: glass eye :: connection :: golden gate :: lisp
By the time the fussy buffet lunch cart has left the boardroom, the mid-day sunshine is pouring hot lava straight into Kate’s face. A million bits of dust (lint from the jackets of directors and partners past, she’s sure), float through the aether between the CEO of this week’s multi-national and the graduates frantically taking notes at the end. The arms of a post-lunch fatigue wrap around each and every one of them, pulling the timbre of their voices lower, the slant of their eyelids ever downer, as though in a sweet, deep prayer. Amen.
I kissed a girl and I liked it, the taste of her –
Mister CIO snorts with some indignity: his eyes are swiveling around in their sockets like lost marbles, blinking hard to regain consciousness. Kate reflexively smacks her hand over her phone with some degree of urgency. As the phone completes the second half of the parabola of its trajectory into madame COO’s glass of sparkling water (cherry chap-stick), Kate takes a split second picture of the message preview on the screen:
Just booked us in for hers-and-hers- bikini waxes!! I’m going to f…