I wish it were so

Admonished and sullen she sits to write but cannot get her father out of her mind. He is contradictory despite his protestations, hypocritical and still prone to behave as he did when she was very young. Mixing up sentences to make her laugh, creating sentences planned to amuse from a combination of splintered words.

She pushes around her desk the document she has to reword. It's clarity and structure dismantled by the garishly tracked changes imposed upon it. The paper was a chore from the very beginning, a proposal for change that contained nothing but old ideas; new ideas being excluded from her brief as everything had to be evidenced as achievable. I am beautiful she momentarily dreams, an involuntary sweep of interwoven self love and the physical discomfort borne of long hours typing pushes her back into her reclining desk chair, she stretches and rotates her shoulders, tenses her calf muscles with her legs lengthened and her thigh muscles taut and pressed together. The sexual surge only causing to heighten the absurdity of her office life. God I'd like to do something about this feeling she knowingly considers, unspoken even within her unconscious; but felt nonetheless.

The absurdity of her days is suddenly no longer a worry. A memory of her father's easy way of reducing her to giggles causes her tension to dissipate. The paper can wait she thinks and so she picks up the phone and arranges to meet him.