She looks around her at all the people in her world, those she knows on some level and those that simply pass on the street each day. What strikes her is that they all seem to have something in common. Look around as you walk down the street. How many people appear, at the very least, content? How many actually are?

Pick a person on the street. Any one will do. What would you picture their life to be, based simply on the appearance they present to you today? Can you tell what kind of home they have, close friends, romance, a family, even a pet goldfish named Herbert? No? What, then, can you tell about a person on the street? You can only surmise what they want you to think about their lives. How they are dressed is simply to establish an impression on you. The way they walk or hold themselves is subconsciously practiced in order to reinforce that perception.

Madison appeared no different than the other people standing in line at the coffee shop. The same generic business attire. The same harried facial expressions at being kept waiting. You know the type, occasional glances at a wristwatch, throw in a few toe taps for good measure. “Carmel Latte, please.” she ordered when her turn at the counter came. “And a blackberry muffin.” She handed over the money and then waited while the coffee was made, nibbling at pinches off the muffin.

Taking the coffee that was served, when they called her by name, she turned to head out the door. Don’t you love how they do that? Call you by first name as though they know you. Somehow intimating that you are close, possibly personal, friends. Anyway, out the door she walked, coffee and muffin balanced in one hand, briefcase in the other. Just another casualty of the corporate world. Her mind on that tasks that lay ahead, she run strait into another one of those casualties, covering them both in splashes of latte. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she gushed alternatively wiping coffee from herself and then him.

Alexander smiled taking the napkin from her hands and wiping the coffee from them each much more efficiently. “No harm, no foul. Don’t worry about it.”

Looking into that smile Madison was suddenly at a loss for words. She quickly gathered her stuff, returned something that resembled a smile, she hoped, and began to leave. “Again, I am very sorry. Enjoy what’s left of your coffee.” She hoped her walk showed confidence and strength as she walked away from him. Alexander watched her walk away with a smile playing across his own lips and with a shake of his head he continued into the coffee shop.

Being in the corporate world was not something Madison was adjusted to. She didn’t have to be. She was not the corporate type. She was however, required to play the part a few times a year. Today, for example, she was meeting with her literary agent who was negotiating with a new publishing house for Madison’s work. Madison was an author. But not just any author. Maybe you have heard of her. Well, not as Madison. To the general population Madison was known as Carolina Woods. Her first work had been a critically acclaimed smash. She currently had five works circling “the lists” as her agent Elizabeth called them. Today, they were finalizing a contract for some children’s books that Madison had completed. The manuscripts had been accepted and today the final details of publishing and contracts was to be completed. Thus, Madison was a corporate today.