Daydreamer
She stacked the paper in a pile. Then lifted it, aligned it into rank and file, smoothed it with her hands and then against the desk. She knocked it once, then twice, then sighed at the mundanity of it all.
She put the stack of paper on her desk, and from the filing cabinet beside the door she retrieved the ring-binder. Expense reports, legal briefs, and research projects: it was her job to sort through them and file them all away.
Modern architecture gifted her a window, something her predecessors probably did not enjoy. The weightless clouds outside the window offered some relief. Absent-mindedly she let the stack of paper get ruffled as she opened the window.
The afternoon breeze was a relief, she lingered by the window, and to feel the liberating breeze a bit more, to allow her to escape from her stuffy reality, she removed her jacket and threw it lazily onto the chair. It slipped off but she didn’t care.
Outside a bird flapped its wings against the strong breeze - the breeze she found so liberating, it found oppressive -. It finally gave in to the wind and found safety on a tree.
Seeing the bird’s surrender, she too went back to the stack of paper, waiting to be filed away.
