yearly review

The boss of my boss is set to arrive.  They saw her crouching in the grassy field across the highway slowly moving her way forward, waiting to pounce.  I still have not glanced her, in her charcoal suit and pearls, and hope I don’t. Whenever I hear her name my heart spurts quickly in my neck.  Head buzzes, feet ache as I am not used to standing. Like Winston, I sit in a corner unwatched by the prying eye of the cameras. My boss's boss would not be amused.  No cigarettes or sitting, or standing still. I am alone with her watching me from the field across the highway as I sit steeping in a room of dildos. Heavy rays of the sun beat down, cracking windows and leaving handprints on the glass.  Sweating like vegetables roughly cut for broth, a salty mess, the smell of their hot bodies fill all the spaces, hugging crevices like water does. Gaseous air behaves so much like a body of water, licking at my skin, even when covered I feel its presence tumbling in great plumes from my body.