I got singled out for being bleached and benign yesterday. Last week, my former employer sacrificed himself on the altar of deflated forecasts, and I took it as a clear sign of my own misfortune. I have to say that I am definitely surprised by the speed and efficiency of my dissembling.
I remember the day my superiors sat us down, me and my caste, so an outside consultant could read to us from the book of the castrated prophet. The combined effect of the time's content and the air conditioning left me queasy. I declined the complimentary luncheon and took myself outside. The humidity of the asphalt heat soothed me. I remember the thistledown floating then, just as it is now.