You are one cubicle worker in an office full of other cubicle workers. Here, everything is beige and bland. From the monotonous typing of keyboards to the crisp business suits to the hum of the water cooler.
At your desk, you open the metal drawer. On top of a stack of manila folders and forgotten files stands a pixie. Rosy cherub cheeks and pricked ears. Dragonfly wings. Rainbow dust twinkles around.
“D’you want to leave?” The pixie whispers, smiling up at you. “Someplace nicer?”
The phone rings. Computer screens lights up with emails. You nod, almost too quickly.
Write with heart.