Patalastas

I haven’t seen much TV shows for the couple of years that I stayed here. Mostly because I can’t understand the rationale about the neverending cycle of love-fight-love-trial-happy ending stories bombarding the tube nowadays.

Still, it’s a continuous fascination of people around the globe. Young, middle-aged, old, single, in a relationship, or married, everyone loves romance.

As I was moving around and searching for my own little space in this massive world, I learned to deceive myself. It felt like a sudden interruption from my fast, simple, and boring life show.

01.01. Trial

I haven’t been that honest for the past 15 years of my life. It was on my 12th birthday did I start telling lies…

My dreams are all set sky high. Almost everyone can call me crazy because of that. But  I don’t mind them at all because I think that I haven’t been sane since I was 12. Anyway, there are no worries because I’m already 27, without a sign of family nor of friends.

I think I’ll be fine.

I am living a life that others can only dream of even until they die. This thought gives me life. This gives me reasons to continue. I think that I’ll never stop because I’ll never meet any distraction. I was correct until last month…

01.02. Pursue

I was quietly enjoying the late summer heat when I remembered my appointment with Ms. Mayet. I could only express a deep sad sigh before I dragged myself off my bed and jumped into my blue peacock colored dress. It was almost 29 degrees outside, damn the heatwaves if it struck me to procrastination again.

Of course, I love my lazy self but I also love to continue my work with Ms. Mayet and earn my next seven digits. It wasn’t really that difficult especially with a solid educational background and fulfilling work experiences, I sure am the only choice for the position.

I am the next Princess of the Art world.

02.01  Praises

Ms. Mayet is the only woman head of the JG Group of Companies. She’s the scary yet highly appreciated leader and artist. Most people would imagine her living in her flat with dozens and dozens of new artworks, piling up her room, and waiting to be adored by people.

I never had a problem with her. We almost breathe the same kind of air. The air of authority. The lungs filled with gusto and some dark secrets. With our own style, we barely care about each other. We have our own little space on the 12th floor of the JG building. That’s enough for us.

Though black crows flap their wings around us, and wait on our mistakes, no one actually succeeded. Until one, Francisco Romero came. The floor seemed too small for the three of us.

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