I zipped through the rows of cubicles, a huge grin plastered to my face, mail cart barely kept in check in front of me. Skidding around a plump secretary and a plumper manager (from a different floor, scandalous), I built back up to another sprint, dodging the surprisingly nimble cart around many a worker. ‘Watch it!’ several of them grumbled in the exact same monotone, before slumping back into their well-designed commercial fitouts, Melbourne paper propped open to the same page, biting into identical tuna sandwiches. I’d always hated tuna. ‘Excuse me!’ I called out enthusiastically, in place of a horn I could really lean on. ‘Important delivery, excuse me!’…

                I ducked into a cubicle, panting as I pressed myself against the itchy felt walls, praying that they hadn’t seen me go in here – I needed to escape, and it needed to be now.          I poked my head out of the stall and into the deserted corridor, quickly checking my surroundings and leapfrogging into the cubicle up and across from me. It was as empty as the first – everyone was at lunch, no doubt.          I did this again, and once more after that, slowly inching my way towards the bank of elevators that governed our floor.          ‘Where…