The Toxic Cubicle

It was a gruesome day at work for her. Ironically, the keys on her workstation which she had been using to develop a risk model confined her soul within the cuffs of a self defeating and pointless pursuit. While walking into those invisible dandelions in the wee hours today, she murdered her passion for art and maligned her canvas for the umpteenth time. A mind full of apprehensions, a drab and dreary cubicle full of choked aspirations, and a space full of selective inhibitions; the air inside the room had no choice but to condense on the interiors of those chilled window panes. She felt too suffocated in this patriarchal leadership mushrooming around her, where her elfin face grabbed more eyeballs than her distinctive presentation skills.
Whenever the deadlines and deliverables crushed her more than her endurance limit, she always turned to her secret stairway to heaven hidden in that labyrinth of inanimate boxes. It was nothing different today and the stairway got her share of pheromones. Up on the terrace away from the desolated faces, she lit her favourite Marlboro Clove Mix to detoxify herself with that aroma of nicotine. The innocent rings of smoke carried her insecurities on their wings, and she greeted them with her strawberry lips.
She scrolled through her phone to look for her offer of admission to her dream college in a designing course. She was getting edgy and jittery, but the last drag of the toxic stimulant made her take a leap of faith and she accepted the offer. The tears marred her phone screen once again, but these were the happy ones for a change. Her heart smiled at this, but her brain smirked at her astonishing lack of discernment. But for the first time ever, she walked down the stairs and entered her maze without a fake smile on her face just to please her colleagues.

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