Time is a funny concept. Fluid and ever changing, a steady constant. Rhythmic and repeating, flying and slowing, and yet just a concept. Only a concept.
The lighting had changed from the cool shades of twilight to noon in an instant, turning the roses from a dull gray to a brilliant white. Blinding. Everything blinding. I turned and thumbed the papers on my desk. Paperwork to be done and filed and started anew. It would be replaced as soon as it was completed. However, it was completed without complaint. Read over, sign, file, repeat. I grabbed the next paper, pen poised over it and paused. Different. It was different. Disrupting the flow. Never. Never.
"Sidney?" She looked as though she would add more but stopped short. She leaned on the door frame and held herself. All bright colors stark against the dark of the office. Different. Blinding. Disrupting. Her face, too, contrasted with the cheerful nature of her dress.
"Get back to work, Alice." Work had no propose, replaced as soon as it is done. Yet the door clicked shut and I was alone once more. I cradled the side of my face with the impurity. The difference. Nor matter how hard one worked, never matter how perfect, time moves on, the hour replaced. Meaningless. Challenging that concept is against the rules. She has yet to learn.