Akin to Happiness

Out of the 36 ways of avoiding disaster, running away is best.

I have made up my mind to sit through this meeting, not really listening but just saying "I concur!" and "Absolutely!" or sometimes when feeling poetic and on fire with enthusiasm, ecstatically interject, "Absolutely fucking brilliant!" in random (yet intelligent) manner just to get it over with. And if I get asked a question I don't have an answer to I'll just say, like I was taught by great corporate guru to say, "I don't see why this is my problem." And then so that I appear to have a grasp of corporate workings I can follow that up with, "I think so-and-so from accounting / human resources / public relations could give us a better picture of what you are asking."

I drink one coffee cup after another. The person beside me, this hot unknown in a suit so expensive I could steal it, sell it and buy a ticket to the States to visit Sunshine, asks me why I like coffee. I think about what to say to hot guy in haute suit. But lethargy overtakes me and I decide, instead of coming up with something clever and flirtatious I can just say: "It makes me happy. " Because it does. This rush I get from coffee-- my heart actually beats faster -- is akin to happiness.

I look around this table and feel so ineffectual. There IS a part of me that wants to get out. Run. Don't look back.

Or even better:

Grab the hand of hot guy in haute suit and run, pull him along, run, make out in the elevator, run, make out all the way to Hong Kong, New York, the French Riviera, wherever else his wealth can take us.

However...

My legs feel like lead. And the coffee has lost its effect. I pour myself another cup and wait for the next rush.