The black doormat her red high heels passed over read, "Biotech: The Future of Life," in bold white letters. Her heels clacked against the brown tiles on the way to the elevator. She pressed a button and straightened her short brown hair. She looked into the silver elevator door. Her blue eyes were bloodshot, naturally, as she hadn't slept well in weeks. The door slid open to reveal several bleary eyed workers that were just getting off the night shift. They filed passed her and she entered the elevator.Three floors later she was walking down a main aisle, her faded red dress, which was slightly tattered and had seen better days, lost in a sea of similarly colored cubicles. She absent mindedly walked down four blocks before she found her own. A black computer monitor sat on a white desk. Neatly placed underneath was a black rolling chair. Her austere workspace smelled as sterile as it looked. She sneezed. Cleaning supplies always prompted that response. She rubbed her nose, turned on her computer, and took a seat.
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