The Woman in the Corner Office

There she is, at dawn, spine pin-straight,
fingers laced around her coffee,
an inbox like an avalanche—
cleared before eight.

She’s an iron tower, heels clicking,
every hair shellacked in place.
Each day, another framed award—
Most Productive, Employee of the Month—
a wall proving she’s untouchable.

She smiles like reflex,
like someone wired it to her jaw.
A smile that says, don’t ask,
because beneath the surface,
there’s a pulse she’s smothering,
a crack filled with gold.

You see it if you watch close—
a tremor when she checks her watch,
a flinch when the phone rings
as if it carries news to ruin her.

She’s convinced herself perfection
is the only thing keeping it together—
the titles, the polished résumé,
the corner office view.

But every now and then,
her eyes drift out the window,
watching someone else’s life—
one she lost in the climb.