Say perchance that:
The moon was in GEMINI; inside his secluded office space, Marshall tinkered with his toys, combining wires and tightening screws.
you are meticulous. pre-destined to fiddle with gadgets, communicate through tiny square boxes disguised as broaches, watches, earrings, pens, whatever the event should permit. well, you don't communicate. you could only hope to communicate. communicating's not your thing. When I was young. you follow orders yet somehow manage to maintain the creative spark. such a sterile environment; housing special agents in designer suits. you wear stripes. sometimes plaid. I never needed anyone.
you sit on the floor like a toddler, legs crossed Indian-style. agents walking here and there; everywhere but where you are. outside, heads passing in front of the window above. the door opens and you look up from your masterpiece-in-progress.
"Things have changed." Sloane. And making love was just for fun. "I need you to go back to the original one." a file flies from his hands onto the pile of others that were of lesser importance, and with that, he closes the door behind him…
return to work, diverting your attention back to the task at hand, until Dixon taps on the glass. look up, smile, wave, look back down. interruptions aren't something you're use to, in fact they annoy you; precisely why you don't have friends. well, you're not completely hopeless; you've got 2 friends. Those days are gone.
you finish at 12:12 pm. just in time to work on your turkey sandwich; what is it about turkey sandwiches? you love them; the way you know exactly how much mustard to use. you'll eat it on the floor like you usually do; sandwich on a piece of paper, chips in your lap, Tab up on the desk to prevent you from having too much caffeine. All by myself!! Don't wanna be… you can't wait to get to the Little Debbie.