in progess

about the subject she simply replied she hadn’t put too much energy into it in fact had purposely waited until that just waking moment when the day doesn’t feel like it is happening through the window and the gray is still looming above. she dreamed about it well actually heard it while she dreamt and said it sounded like a mantra for condition similar to the overly simplified one she molded her routines around earlier but this string of words seemed to feel a bit more weighty, though she acted as if she did not know at all and in that sense she really didn’t know and convinced herself that the small voice was just a puff made up of dust particles and cigarette ashes that when mixed had the same effect as juicy opium squares, like those nights at work in those idle moments of movement and mindless chatter comforting her from productive solitude. it was funny because she couldn’t place her finger on the year and with each one the green formica remained shining and the display case on its three year rotation. it was looking up each time to a slimmer frame more apathetic or just plain tired that she began to wish she could see herself walking by or more so what those walking by noticed about her own, if they could notice anything about the girl that sat smally sometimes behind the desk.