I work at Helix-Gray Consolidated, a company that manufactures the little plastic dividers used in office supply bins. Our quarterly earnings reports are beige. Our CEO, a man named Thorne who looks like a weeping willow in a tie, once fired a janitor for whistling “a melody with identifiable syncopation.”
A woman in a puffer jacket made entirely of mirrors. Each panel reflected a different angle of the station—her own face fractured into a dozen smirking shards. She wore boots covered in fake grass, and her hair was dyed the exact orange of a traffic cone. Frivolous Dressorder The Commute
The mirrored woman sat next to me. “Watch,” she whispered. I work at Helix-Gray Consolidated, a company that
The security monitor beeped. A red light flashed. I stood there, pineapple on my head, waiting. Each panel reflected a different angle of the
The train doors opened. We all shuffled inside. Grimes was already seated, clipboard out, scanning faces like a hawk scanning a field for injured mice.