Does anyone else feel like they’re wearing a costume that’s two sizes too small in the shoulders but fits perfectly in the wallet? I spent this morning in that big room with the glass walls where the air always tastes like ozone and expensive coffee. There’s this one individual who likes to hear the sound of his own teeth clicking together when he talks. He’s the one who signs off on the numbers, so when he decides to be funny, everyone performs. It’s like a chorus line but for people who carry briefcases instead of canes. I found myself making that noise—the loud, sharp bark that sounds like agreement—while the cold slickness was already blooming across my skin. I had my hands flat against my thighs, moving them back and forth against the dark fabric of my trousers because they felt like they’d been dipped in oil. It’s a specific kind of dampness. It’s not the heat from a long shift on your feet like my old man used to have; it’s more like the condensation on a pipe that’s about to burst. I was smiling so hard my jaw felt like it was made of dry plaster, watching the way the light hit the mahogany table and thinking about how many months of rent one of those chairs could cover. It’s a strange predicament to be in, sitting in the seat you spent fifteen years climbing toward only to feel like the floor is actually made of thin paper. It’s been happening more often lately. That thing where the world goes silent for a second and all you can hear is the blood thumping behind your ears like a heavy boot on floorboards. I looked at the person across from me—the one who’s always talking about the absolute necessity of the bottom line—and I realized I didn’t care if the whole building dissolved into the pavement. I just kept wiping my palms, trying to dry the evidence of the static inside my head before someone noticed I wasn’t really there. The laugh kept echoing in my throat, sounding like something hollow being dragged over gravel... just a series of vibrations with no actual heart in them. I grew up in a house where we didn’t have the luxury of whatever this is. If you had a job, you did it until your back gave out or they stopped paying you.