"It was difficult for Lola to drag herself to work in the morning and she knew she wasn't alone, but she felt her reasoning to be unique. It wasn't that she hated work enough to just stop showing up. She saw the value of work in that it enabled her to pursue her true passions, monetarily. She enjoyed her bed, and she enjoyed her tea, she enjoyed the quiet time to simply reflect. Lola had noticed a big change in herself since embarking on the nine to five grind. Her reflection time before was much slower, much more methodical and structured, the pieces were laid out in her head and they were easy to follow. Now it seemed all of her reflection time was substituted with deflective tactics, attempting to keep the monotony monster out of her brain. The morning was the only time when the insides of her head didn't buzz. She could breath deeply, stare softly at the wrinkled sheets on her bed and just think thoughts one by one, with no reason to rush them along. It was always the mornings when her brain felt content that it became the hardest for her to get to work. She'd wake, after a long night of collaging and conversations with Albert, to feel completely relaxed. Exhausted of her desires to seek dimension, she'd be at peace. It was in this time, Lola's personal time, that her pastey soles began to stick. She'd roll out of bed and the sheets would come with her. She'd laugh and sit down and gently pull them from the bottom of her feet. She'd stand up and head for the kitchen. Step, stick, peel... Step, stick, peel... Step, stick, peel. Lola's pastey soles wanted to remain attached to their comfort dimension. The apartment had that warm summer morning feel to it, warm enough to entice you out of bed, but just cool enough to let you stay for a little longer. She'd have a seat in her favorite chair, the one that sat parallel to her favorite window and across from her favorite wall and sip her favorite tea, cranberry mint, as she smiled at the last memories of her dreams. She'd close her eyes, only to remember details, and see stop motion movies flickering in shades of grey and pale yellow. The worlds she created at the edge of sleep would come to life in her dreams, peeling themselves off of their poster-board birthplaces and growing into layered masses of gloss paper. She'd watch as the Calvin Klein model with zebra legs would prance over to Aunt Jemima who'd be enjoying a stack of pancakes on the moon while watching a cat walk by wearing 4 different shoes singing "Seems I'm not along at being alone" over and over again. It was a happy place whose inhabitants were simple. They were upfront and honest, and never turned their back on others, but this wasn't because they didn't have backs, it was because they were genuine, they only lived off of two dimensions, their poster board home of needs, and their sticky foot travels of emotion. Lola smiled at the world and headed out the door."....

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