Behind the facade of success.

She sat in her big leather chair and stared at the wall. A certificate there and an award here. The wall was covered by statements congratulating a person whose name sounds oddly familiar to her own. Pictures hung and faces smiled at her from frames. Some smiles were phony , others are sincere. Some frames are glittery and colorful , while others conservative and mature. She was a huge success in the dog-eat-dog business world. A woman sitting on the throne of a huge company. People look up to her and wish for what she has. Yet, oddly none mattered enough.

She swirled around and leaned back. The view from the windows was gloomy to her eyes , but her heart sang with the spectacular view. The city looked sleek and slick , the people like small insects crawling along the wet streets. The sky was another matter. A mixture of chrome , peaches and blue. How would a plunge from the window into the grey clouds feel !?. Would the clouds feel as comforting as they look !?.

A herd of people entered the room. Half smiles pasted on their faces and files clutched to their chests. With a gesture , each took his chair. She looked over , kept her mask and willed them to talk. For she had no energy for chatter and inquiries.

She listened to the usual business talk. Statistics , charts and reports. On and on , the drill went. The emotions in their eyes has always fascinated her. Disappointment mixed with loathing , hope sprinkled with jealousy while envy always played in the background. Amazing one never see loyalty or love anymore.

A lull in the conversation marked the end. She snapped to attention and realized they are waiting for her decision. The speech she prepared waited to be delivered in a big flourish manner. Yet , words fell out of her lips in monotone. Words with no meaning , none whatsoever.

Other words burned the tip of her tongue. She paused and looked in their eyes squarely. Some quaked while others stared head on. She held to her emotionless mask and leaned forward as if to tell them a big secret. All copied the movement in anticipation.

” Haven’t you wondered what it is like to be inside a washing machine!!. I mean , the wheesh and whoosh inside is music. I bet the turning and twisting would represent a dance. Something slow and seductive. A waltz perhaps. “ , she said. The surprise and bafflement on their faces were priceless. A mixture so intoxicating like a painting by the hand on a talented artist. A laugh escaped her lips. The first real emotion in quite a long time. She collected her belongings and stuffed them in her Prada bag then walked away.

The sound of her six inch heels tapping was a declaration of some sort. A music like those played at the end of an important scene in movies. Yet , for the life of her, she could not say what just happened. She took a big breath and let the door thunk on her way out.

The girl in tight shoe.