text: Endless corridors, elevators, and more corridors; every now and then, there were small empty office kitchens where the company had provided a modest table, a microwave, and a coffee machine. The carpet, with its strange zigzag pattern in a swampy color, was soft and even a little sticky, as if it didn't want to let go of your foot after each step. Or was it just the lingering effects of another sleepless night? Entering her boss's office, Susan slowed her pace near the panoramic window on the 70th floor: snow had long since covered the entire city and continued to fall from the sky. However, in the endless enclosed spaces that flowed into subway stations and electric trains, you barely encountered winter. "You've had an excellent performance this year. You think we don't notice?" her boss said gently, sitting on the couch next to Susan after she had told him she was planning to leave. "I'm just burned out, I want to quit," she replied quietly. "We have several thousand people working here, and among them all, I know you personally. You know, I've been here for twenty years, since the very beginning..." Susan nodded politely, listening to the story of the company, but she already understood she would leave empty-handed. Reflections of the company's logo, which hung just behind the large window of the top management floor, flickered on the glossy furniture in the office, on the marble-covered floor, on the walls with old-fashioned motivational posters, and on the strange mannequins displaying new season clothing samples. In the dim light, it seemed as if the mannequins had holes instead of eyes. "It's like he turned his enemies into stone and imprisoned them here once upon a time." "Where do you see yourself here?" The conversation was becoming uncomfortable. Susan wanted to end it, but she even found it awkward to hang up on scammers when they called her on the phone, let alone in this situation. The boss was polite, but his persistence was suffocating, as sticky as the carpet in the corridors of the top management floor. She remained silent. "Think about it, don't rush. Sleep on this thought, as they say. You can't beat me." "Excuse me?" Susan startled. "You don't need to leave, you're one of us." And so, Susan left the office with no avail. She walked back past the empty kitchens, through an elevator with a transfer on one of the floors, and past small office cubicles where the backs of people's heads were visible behind partitions. Susan sank into her tired, creaking chair and looked at the open spreadsheet on her screen. "I need to get out of here," she muttered to herself when she saw the clock in the corner of the screen. She said goodbye to a couple of remaining workaholics and, in the elevator descending thirty levels down, put on her coat she had bought from Zara a few years back. Susan walked out, skillfully navigating around the flow of people, and continued through the endless subway corridors. Overtaking pedestrians, she hurried to catch the bus: it was already past ten in the evening, and the last bus to the suburbs was at eleven. Time was running out. "Check this file," her phone vibrated. The next minute, Susan was sitting in the subway car with her laptop on her knees, editing a presentation for her team leader's status update the following day. "Ah, damn it," Susan cursed: she had missed two stations. She closed her laptop, grabbed her bag, and rushed through the closing doors. "I can't hear you, I'm in the subway right now!" But the approaching train relentlessly drowned out her attempts to answer the call, "Let's talk tomorrow, okay?" Standing by the door on the return train, Susan looked at her quivering reflection in the doors opposite. Her curls tensely bounced. Susan decided to remove her coat and scarf, remaining in a black sweater from under which a strict white blouse peeked out. She used to feel like she belonged at work, but now she wanted to shed the office style along with all the work devices that lay in her bag and rubbed her neck. The bus was nowhere to be found, but Susan was not used to giving up, especially since she could get home on the commuter train, after traversing seven stations back to the station. "Why do I have to rush even when I'm going home?" She wanted to relax and observe the subway passengers: a couple in their twenties, sharing a pair of headphones. Or a young man who seemed to have just returned from the army and hadn't yet decided what to do with his life now. But her phone vibrated again: this time, her boss was calling. "There's this ambitious task that just came in, and I immediately thought of you... The previous manager couldn't handle it. Tomorrow morning, come see me." When Susan joined this company ten years ago, the idea that her tasks would reach the boss seemed incredible. Even three years ago, a project of this level would have made her head spin. But she needed to leave. "Where are you?" A message from her team leader. After fighting her way through the ticket counter queue, a pointless bag search, and a malfunctioning turnstile, Susan burst into the stuffy commuter train car, unable to make her way past the vestibule. No worries, in half an hour she would be home. "Check out this version," another message came. Twenty minutes into the journey between two stations, the train stopped and showed no signs of life. "Please remain calm; the train will depart shortly," the indifferent voice of the train operator announced. "When will you send it? I need to check it too." The clock showed past midnight. Someone opened the doors, and especially impatient passengers started to climb out directly onto the tracks. Dangerous, but she didn’t care anymore. Susan ran a mile along the rails to her station, then to her home. Leaving the messages unread, she turned on 'Do Not Disturb' mode on her phone and set the alarm for 5:30 am. After another sleepless night, Susan entered the office changing room and sat on the couch to catch her breath. "Alright, time to take off my clothes," she whispered to herself. Susan removed her scarf and felt for the zipper on her boots, took them off, and stretched her legs a bit. Then she reached for the buttons on her coat, but her hand stopped halfway because she looked at her reflection again. Her hand involuntarily rose to the back of her neck, and with difficulty, she found the hidden zipper there. Struggling to grab the clasp, which she hadn't used for a long time, Susan pulled it down. It wasn't very pleasant; the zipper squeaked and dug into her skin. She hadn't taken off this attire for ten years, since joining this company. But now she wanted to get rid of it and take a refreshing shower first thing. She removed her tired face, her curly hair, which she diligently dyed every month, giving it a fresh golden hue. She took off her sad shoulders along with the Zara coat, the white blouse under the black sweater. The suit resisted heavily at the stomach, got stuck at the thighs, but Susan managed to get rid of it, and in the mirror before her stood the girl who had come here ten years ago and then decided to entrust her fate to the company. She carefully folded the suit of thirty-five-year-old Susan, with its hair, face, waist, hips, legs, heels, experience, network, achievements... "What is this?" she heard a voice and flinched. It turned out that a young intern, who had just joined the company a couple of months ago, was standing there. "Want it? Take it, it’s yours," the girl said, handing the suit over to him. She needed to hurry, so she left the changing room and took the elevator away from this glass tower. As she left the premises, she knew in her heart that she would never return. Peter, the intern who had looked up to Susan as a role model, was thrilled with the opportunity to cut a career path. He hesitated for a moment, and after a brief pause, he first put on her legs, which were in slightly tight jeans, hips, Susan's waist with a hint of extra weight, and her sad shoulders. Looking in the mirror at his head, as if attached to Susan's shoulders, Peter nodded decisively, put on her face, hair, and zipped up. Ten minutes later, Susan came out of the changing room and, looking around uncertainly, walked to the elevator to the boss's level, forgetting to take off the Zara coat worn over the white blouse under the black sweater.