We spent the day proofing copy for the December issue, which ships tomorrow and Friday (and maybe a little on Monday, if we're not good). Despite how simple that may seem, it's not exactly easy to just read and read and read, drawing red circles around silly apostrophes and bad italics.
To an outsider, it might have appeared as though we were mimicking each other's movements. Perhaps it even seemed as though a mirror had been magically raised upwards alongside my body to reflect my motions and thoughts and buying habits.
She nodded her head yes and lied when I asked her if she was alright. Her brown eyes blinked a song in perfect time to keep from letting loose tears. My lovely friend was sad.
In the conference room, where I have lunch each day with two of my favorite people in the world (I am very lucky), I found myself tapping my fingers in constant rhythm against the long, veneered table. Why was I doing this?
Stephen Mejias
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