Brown eyes alternating between bright as a sparrow and dull as a beetle flick around the room.
The bow of her lips twang as a stolen moment leads to internal laughter. They fall flat once again as the bowman returns to the present.
The string is pulled taught as her mouth stretches to form a frigid smile, apples of her cheek frozen by the frost of professionalism.
Thin fingers take on an a robotic clacking pattern as the thoughts whirr and the eyes darken. Concentration brings wrinkles to the forehead and rabbit-like twitching to the nose.
The face falls flat, the email sent.
The business smile returns, head tilted to listen better to the higher powers.
A worker ant sent sprawling in a hamster’s well, a rat in a cat race, a china plate in a bull shop.
She contemplates herself and, unimpressed, burrows back into her work.