This morning I was getting coffee ... Ok, I wasn't getting coffee. I was getting hot chocolate. I don't drink coffee, but "getting coffee" sounds more grown-up than "getting hot chocolate." It's the same with ordering white wine instead of white zinfandel or saying "I like watching Grey's Anatomy" instead of "I like watching Wipe Out."
I don't like watching Grey's Anatomy.
As I walked back to my unassigned and awkwardly tiny desk that faces a not very cheery but still brightly colored red wall, the middle elevator opened and I found myself looking away quickly to avoid being spotted giggling at the people who disembarked.
There were two of them. Both men and both with the same kind of body type - the kind that suggests they were athletes in their misspent youth. They were also wearing very similar clothing. Black windbreakers and black pants.
The one on the left had his backpack slung over his right shoulder, while the one on the right had his backpack slung over his left shoulder. They were engrosed in an animated conversation, as if they were on the verge of discovering the next big thing in financial services, nodding their heads in unison and finishing each other's sentences.
You may think I found the scene funny because of how mirrored they were ... But you're wrong.
Turns out, the gentleman on the right was at least two heads taller than the one on the left. At least. One was looking almost straight down while the other - stay with me - was facing almost straight up.
Maybe I thought I was seeing someone in a funhouse.
Or maybe at that precise moment the universe was revealing to me that it knew I didn't in fact have any coffee in my cup.
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