PaperCity

3411 Richmond Avenue: a shiny building holding offices called suites. After straightening Cupcake out, perfecting my parking job, I clicked my way down three flights of stairs and entered "The Lobby." My hair was perfect. I opened the gigantic glass door that was the portal to my reason for excitement and the construction workers coming out held the door for me and flashed me nice smiles. I presented them with my abnormal happy vibe and began searching for "suite" 600. Suite is a word commonly used for these offices located in large, fancy buildings, but if you examine the word as a single entity, there's a formal, intimidating connotation. A woman bustled out of the elevator. Her french bun was a piece of art; it was a cheesecake-color and it sat atop her head, twisted like soft-serve ice cream. An English accent slipped from her tongue as she helped me find Papercity's office. As the construction workers presented her their goodbye smiles, she told me I looked beautiful. The abnormal happiness turned into irresponsible confidence. The office was granite blue accesorized with white vases. The latest issue of PaperCity laid on the coffee table. Dee explained how she wasn't ready for me and asked me to come back on Wednesday. My smooth New York and Co. pants and excess of confidence weren't utilized to their full potential. I spent the rest of my day exploring Rice Village.