What we live in.

This morning I was 9 minutes late for work. I knew I was running behind, and was looking in the mirror: distraught over my hair that would not flip the right way, the lack of shimmer in my eye shadow, and that my pants were un-pressed. I wanted to go back, and be even later for work.

My mask was in bad shape.

Ungrace demanded something else.

I need to go home now. I will finish this later.