Word Count:\u00a0 352<\/p>\n

He looked around at his new office, bigger than he had imagined. Walnut furniture. Light steel gray plush carpeting. A few Picassos and a Matisse. Prints, of course, but reflecting his new status as much as the office itself. On the fortieth floor and a corner with windows that looked out on the city. And blinds that could close him inside with the delight of this hard-earned, newly-won luxury.<\/p>\n

He did; he closed the blinds and sank into his pearl gray leather chair. Rearranged the calendar and pen. Opened the daily planner. Sighed and leaned back and simply enjoyed it.<\/p>\n

After years of open spaces and noise, then cubicles that didn\u2019t reach up to his chin, wide open, doorless, completely un-private, this was a veritable paradise. He was blessedly alone, nobody watching, nobody sneaking up and looking over his shoulder. His father always told him that someday he\u2019d reach this level if he worked hard and he had.<\/p>\n

He looked around at the delicious sense of security. Privacy. He could even pick his nose\u00a0 without worrying about anyone seeing him. He could, and he did. His mother always told him that his finger would stick there someday if he didn\u2019t break the gross habit and he giggled to himself with the delight of a child doing mischief. But his mother said it would happen, and now, oh dear God, it did! He found it impossible to pull his finger back out.<\/p>\n

He hadn\u2019t touched his nose in thirty years and here, when he had the freedom to just try it and see, it stuck so firmly inside his right nostril he hardly could breathe. Shame turned to fear and then panic. He tried everything, pulling at his elbow, grabbing his wrist, shaking his head back and forth with his arm wedged in a drawer, but it wouldn\u2019t budge, not even a bit. He started to sweat. Right into his Pierre Cardin suit.<\/p>\n

He was caught in this unlovely, unpresidential position when he heard a loud buzz and his gorgeous new secretary–his favorite perk of the job–walked in.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Word Count:\u00a0 352 He looked around at his new office, bigger than he had imagined. Walnut furniture. Light steel gray plush carpeting. A few Picassos and a Matisse. Prints, of course, but reflecting his new status as much as the … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[18,15],"tags":[25,24],"class_list":["post-1316","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-100-days-2012","category-horror","tag-100-days-2012","tag-horror"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1316","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1316"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1316\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1317,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1316\/revisions\/1317"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1316"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1316"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1316"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}