E.

Hard times.

But in an interesting way. No more water cooler. No more jewewlry. 2 locked doors to enter and exit. Able to knock me over and break my fragile little bones with one fell push. Able to control it with my eyes and words only. The angry, the mislaid, the misplaced, the unplacable. Now part of my group. The perfectionist comes into a position where she can't win, where she can bang her head against the wall continuously, where facade is everything and real life is nothing.

Quite the career I walked back into.