An absolutely terrifying, traumatic and torturous incident took place at work today. (Now that’s a lot of adjectives that start with a T). PAUSE. (I have a strange feeling that some of you may have already started laughing *huff, followed by a hair flip*)
My place of work is beautiful. One could call it a Palace of Glass – largely due to the dominance of silicon dioxide to that of brick and mortar.
I often find myself admiring the industrially austere minimalism of the construction, with its lush gardens and strategically placed indoor landscapes.
Not to mention, what the abundance of reflective surfaces does for a closet narcissist. *preening*
It was at one such surface, while I was stealthily checking my mane for gravity-defying signs, when I heard a loud sound.