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brightly as she handed me some instructions and a temporary parking pass.
    “Thank you. I appreciate it!” I smiled politely, taking the items from her with my left hand and reaching out to shake her free hand with my right.
    After she turned on her heel to scurry away, my smile faltered.  I turned my face up to the sun and let the heat seep in. Working my ass off for almost 6 years at Miller Security has resulted in an upper management position—Human Resources Director. At 28 years old, I managed to become the youngest director at Miller Security.  But as usual, this newest accomplishment wasn’t enough. “Nothing will ever be enough,” I muttered to myself as I opened my eyes and pulled my iPod from my handbag.  After another deep breath, I let my eyes flit around my surroundings. Taking in the beauty of Downtown Richland, I slipped on my sunglasses. 
    Putting my earbuds in place, I selected the soundtrack to begin my walk.  Music had always been a love of mine, but over the last few years, it became essential.  Whenever I needed to reset my mood or if my emotions were getting to be too much, I put on music.  The poetic melody of “Street Lights” coursed through me as the 5pm crowd hustled around the streets of downtown, fleeing the 8 hour work day. And as usual, I took my time. I didn’t have friends or family waiting for me so I walked slowly, but with purpose as I let the beat of the music carry me to my destination.  Music made me feel free and listening to music on the 15 minute walk to my building was always the highlight of my day.
    I ca me to a complete stop at the front door of Libby Lofts, my home of almost 6 years.  Two burly middle aged men rolled their empty dolly through the double doors and onto the moving truck that was parked directly in front of the building. James, the doorman, smiled at me as I walked through the doors of the opulent building. At first glance, one would assume Libby Lofts was a hotel building and not high end loft spaces. 
    I glance d around the spacious lobby before heading to the mail room.  I walked toward the back of the wall passing streak free gold boxes with loft numbers in Libby Lofts’ signature calligraphy.  I put my key into my lock, careful not to leave prints everywhere, and pulled out a few days’ worth of mail.  I flipped through the mail quickly as I walked to the elevator only looking up when the couple exiting the elevator said excuse me.  Once inside the large metallic freight elevator, I pulled my earbuds out of my ears and put my iPod back in my handbag. The elevator doors rolled open as it stopped on the 9 th floor of the complex.
    Walking quickly to Loft 9B, I pulled out my keys and dropped the mail. Groaning, I picked up the mail that littered across the heather gray carpet.  One handwritten envelope stood out from the rest. Unintentionally, I gasped and with a trembling hand, I picked up the envelope, bringing it closer to my face. I recognized the handwriting. Quickly, I scooped the rest of the mail and pushed it inside of my handbag and ran to 9B.
    Dropping everything on the hall console by the door, I ran straight to the hall bathroom.  The calming sky blue colored walls could do nothing to stop the panic that coursed through me.  I splashed water on my face and looked in the mirror.  My almond shaped brown eyes that used to sparkle with flecks of gold looked dull. My long kinky curls that used to be wild and free were regularly pulled into a tight, professional bun.  My full lips looked perpetually sad.  The glow of my smooth, brown skin was gone.  Although still attractive, I was a shell of the woman I used to be.  A shell of the woman I thought I’d become.  I took one more look at the woman I didn’t truly recognize and I walked out of the blue bathroom.
    Grabbing my handbag, I walked across the square loft space to the living room.  The open floor plan made a relatively cozy living space look spacious. The walls were