'The morning sunlight advanced across the powder blue carpet'

The morning sunlight advanced across the powder blue carpet. She had chosen powder blue because it was soft. Not red like the carpet in the church, spilling its way up the altar for communion. The world was harsh, black and white and red. But her room was gentle. Just this one space in a house full of exposed beams, cobwebs, and the flickering of blue light from the TV.

Keep hand moving. Brain not working.

I didn’t see morning sunlight for a long time because I worked at the newspaper. My friends and family thought I could adapt my schedule on my off days. I said it would be like them deciding to get up at 3 in the morning on the weekend, but they never really understood that. I was so happy when I stopped working there and I could see not sunlight but sunsets. So, so pretty. My favorite time of the day. I don’t know if that’s true, but it sounds good.

The morning sunlight advanced across the powder blue carpet as she waited for her interview to start. This was the first time she had thought to work at a candy company. The carpet was powder blue, the tables were candy apple red, the chairs were sour apple green, and the receptionist was far too perky for 7 a.m. When Janie was told to have a sweet, sweet morning she knew this might not be the place for her. She also expected to see Gene Wilder’s wild hair peeking out from the hallway. Roald Dahl was quite an odd guy, wasn’t he? Janie thought about the dark books and movies she had been exposed to as a kid. They scared her and gave her depth at the same time. Willie Wonka into the cave of nightmares or whatever it was. Did everyone escape that? Remember that kid that got sucked into the chocolate tube? Oh my god, why am I here?

Before Janie’s thoughts could tumble into her running out of the room screaming, a woman appeared from the hallway. Hair not unlike Gene Wilder’s, Janie noticed. The woman introduced herself as Maria and shook Janie’s hand. Janie appreciated the handshake, just the right amount of pressure. People with weak handshakes made her suspicious. People with strong ones made her feel tiny. But Maria’s was just right, like the perfect combination of crunchy on the outside and soft in the middle that the food scientists say is the key to creating an addictive substance. Drugs, food, everyone is pushing something.

Janie again tried to get the negative thoughts out of her mind. She needed this job because she could barely keep regular food in her house, let alone sugary and/or savory frankenfood. She did realize, though, that the secrets of both sausage-making and candy-making should remain in the closet (She had helped her husband make sausage once. Since then the food processor attachment had sat alone at the back of the cupboard, a safe home for one or more enterprising spiders). With that thought in mind, Janie walked through the crossed candy canes that marked the entrance of Maria’s office and took a seat on a pleasant looking lollipop chair. 

“So,” Maria said. “What brings you to our land of candy?”