I am the lowly, inconsequential new hire in the office. I have slightly more significance than a paper clip. We are both of about the same use, except I gain minuscule points by added versatility. However, I have to reason that the paper clip obtains magnitude with its constant, everyday use. I cannot manufacture such a claim. I awoke this morning groggy and weary, unreasonably irate at the sun’s presence on my face. As if I should mourn the existence of the sun!
I dragged myself to work, visibly struggling, consumed by the thought that I should overcome my aversion to the taste of coffee and just drink it. I might actually stay awake in meetings. I walked into the office kitchen, my eyes glazed over by lack of sleep. I gazed at the water dispenser. I glared at the coffee pot brewing hot on the counter. I gazed. I glared. I shrugged. I filled my glass with water. And thank the good lord in heaven that I did. Devoted to the solitary thought of my exhaustion, my eyes were open (barely), and I walked zombie-style towards the kitchen’s exit. I rounded the corner, only to bound into the air, yelping. In my panicked frenzy the amply filled glass of water tumbled out of my hand and directly onto the chest of one of the Development Directors in the office. The poor unsuspecting soul had merely been walking into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I, in my painfully-low-access-to-brain-cells-state, had been frightened by (god forbid) another human body. His face registered shock as the iced water drizzled down his chest onto his pant leg. I can only imagine one of the ingredients in his facial expression was due to his attempt at placing who this easily-scared girl with the crazy eyes was.