I love the way you look. It's tax deductible. It's a corner, an unexplored niche in an unexposed market.
I started off proceedings with the initial twitching of your lips. I bought the office space, a small building at first but this enterprise has an implicit potential for growth.
Currently it is just me but I'm already running interviews for PAs. They all seem to meet the specification. The sparkle in your eye will indicate which one will best suit the role.
I've kept on the cleaners from the last use of the building, they've been doing an outstanding job at upkeep. They leave the walls and floors as clean and tidy as the crow's feet on your face but, just to be certain, I've shown them the new aim for which they're now expected to reach.
I've got rid of all the white walls, chosen a cream that approximates the colour of your midday skin. I've reshaped the windows so that they look out on the city below a la your clear gaze. The carpet is, of course, of a similar consistency to your auburn hair immediately after a shower. I even managed to incorporate the coconut extract.
With the building on its way to being sorted, I've since turned my attention to how we'll regulate numbers. If your smile turns out lopsided we'll be wary but if it's full we'll rest assured. Considering the general lack of middle-class employment in this area, I'm sure we'll see these offices fill up soon enough.
Yes, I can hear it now. Walking down from my office patterned with your light green iris and desk the salmon of your lips, pre-stick, post gloss; I will hear only the slightest hum of life as if from within a closed mouth: inhalation, exhalation. The front, what the world will observe, will only be silent. They won't see the productivity but they won't be able to take their eyes off the product.It'll be complete adoration. It'll be quiet communication of the fact. Your smile keeps me running and now the world.