networding

It was early, and it was cold. Blue – not a pretty blue, but rather the smudged ink of the border of dawn, seeped through an inadequate blind.

The peace of early morning was shattered by the screech of the alarm.

Too cold.

She couldn’t get up yet.

But the alarm insisted, and besides, there was something she wanted to do.
The morning routine was almost comforting in its mundanity. There was a strange sort of beauty in the routine that set her up for the rest of the day.
And there was more beauty to look forward to. Devoted as she was to the simple things, she was looking forward to the journey to work today – for she would be sharing it with the best company in the world.

She paid particular attention to her hair and make-up today, even though it was much earlier than when she…

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