My junior year I was a secretary at this PR firm. The only qualification I met was that I could answer a phone, and even that was a miracle. Calls were dropped, lost, sent to outer space. It was painful work, and frankly I don't know how anyone does it without blowing their brains out. The lone solace was the window. On the 43rd floor you have a brilliant view of the factories on the horizon. In a trance, I would stare into wafting smoke like a hypnotist’s watch. I will be a bird. When I wake, I will fly.

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