Glitter

It was a cold day of winter when I saw it. Glitter started to fall from the sky. Glitter: little, perfect, shiny particles covering the outside world glowed and sparkled, transforming the view into a magnified snow globe. The houses and trees looked pretty and magical, while our lives remained the same, inside, safe from that strange event. It was not Christmas nor any other festivity that neighbors could have used as an excuse to decorate the street. It was just a regular day when something very different happened.

It was early in the morning. From my window, I could see the cars covered in white, blue, and silver and the marks of tires in the street from early birds going to work. It was a sign- I thought- of how wonderful my life was. Even the sky was shining for me. That was the first day of a perfect life. I had an ideal family with an extraordinary partner. I had model kids. My house was gorgeous. My pets had a million followers online.

On top of that, I had scored the ideal job. There was nothing else I could ask for; still, the universe had decided to shine for me. My first day would be known as the sparkling day. 

I applied my makeup and put my heels on. I felt beautiful and powerful and ready to succeed. I kissed everyone before leaving the house and entered my shiny red cherry car. I drove to my new office, contemplating people moving slowly around me. Was I driving too fast? Was I too eager to arrive before anyone else? I wondered how life would be now that I'd become what I'd always wanted: I was about to have more responsibility than ever, more visibility than before, and the first woman in such a position in that company. I was about to show the boys how to play the business game after many years of climbing the Corporate ladder. 

A few minutes later, I parked my car. Once outside, it only took a couple of steps to notice an inconvenient detail from all that shining stuff around: my coat was covered with sparkles, and glitter entered my eyes. I noticed a couple of tears while walking to the office building. Would that ruin my mascara? Suddenly, I did not feel perfect, struggling to walk on my heels in the shiny blanket covering the parking lot. My hair started to frizz. Why did it frizz? It was glitter, not rain or snow, but some dry substance sticking to my curls. It made no sense. People around me seemed to drag their feet. Everything seemed to run in slow motion in that parking lot. Why weren't they moving? Why didn't they go inside? Infuriated with all that nonsense, I sped up, almost running towards the office entrance. A big glass door before me, embedded in a big glass wall, was the only thing stopping me from my well-earned position and childhood goals. I stopped and looked at the glass. I couldn't see my reflection. I wanted to fix my hair and clean my coat, but there was too much light to see my reflection clearly. I convinced myself it did not matter. A messed up hair would not stop me from doing what I had to do.

I swiped my card into the digital reader, and the doors opened for me. Inside, gray suits moved through the building smoothly. I realized I couldn't hear the steps. In fact, I couldn't listen to conversations or laughs either. People seemed to be gliding, and the expressions on their faces were... indifferent. No one seemed to be happy, or angry, or even bored. They seemed so gray as their suits. Everything seemed smooth and coordinated around me, and I felt clumsy while shaking off the glitter from my coat. A young lady dressed in blue approached me in the lobby and asked for my coat. When I took it off, my green dress seemed to surprise her.

"Sorry, I thought there was no dressing color code," I whispered to her. "I see now my outfit might not be the expected one."

The lady looked at me and smiled.

"There is no such code," she said, "and I like that color. It is nice to have different colors around. The partners will meet you in a minute. Please take a seat."

"She is nice," I thought. I sat in a black leather chair, holding my handbag for precisely a minute when a man in a grey suit approached me.

"We are delighted to have you here," he said, extending his hand to shake mine."I hope this strange weather has not been an inconvenience for your travel here," he continued while staring at my hair. 

I stopped myself from trying to remove whatever else I had on my hair. One thing was fixing my look when no one else was around, and the other was worrying about such frivolous details in front of one of the Company managers. I stood up and shook his hand, strong and decisive, as I have done many times before. I had only one opportunity to make a perfect first impression, and I had trained for it for many years. He briefly locked his eyes with mine and said, "We should be going; your team is waiting."

We walked towards the elevator and entered one of the massive glass boxes at the same time as a group of men, all dressed in grey. As we left the office floors below us, I thought about the last time I'd spent my first day at work elsewhere. It had started well, but that job experience had given me more headaches than laughter or pride. I was convinced I'd learned enough to avoid repeating that mistake. The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. In front of us was a well-illuminated corridor with lines and lines of desks.

"This will be your team," said the manager.

Everyone turned their faces to us as if they had been remotely instructed. I nodded and quickly glanced at the mirror on the elevator's wall before stepping out. No more particles were on my hair, but something new had appeared: a grey lock of hair between my black curls. I battled the instinct to touch it. "It is not important," I told myself, and I stepped into the office area.

I spoke to everyone. I stopped at every table. I introduced myself more times than I could count. My face hurt from all the smiles. My voice cracked from all the talking.

"You'll do great here," someone said, but I was too tired to reply. I'd walked kilometers on my heels and weathered the cold in different meeting rooms, with too many men dressed in grey. 

In the last meeting of the day, someone finally asked my opinion. Not an introduction, not a story about my experience, but my oppinion. I felt myself again. I stood up, breathed deeply, and then, when I tried to speak, I realized I had no voice.

"Such a pity," whispered a man sitting by my side.

"We thought we'd found the one," someone else replied.

I grabbed my things and left the room. I walked the corridor as fast as I could, where people asked me where I was going, where people whispered many other things. I called for the elevator, hoping to join no one else. The doors opened, and an old lady just nodded when I entered. I pressed the lobby button and waited. I waited and waited, and the lady by my side, in a beautiful but sober dark blue dress, said:

"Time goes fast." I smiled at her, thinking her face reminded me of someone else. The elevator stopped. I waited for the doors to open, and just before I left, I looked at myself in the mirror. I gasped with horror... my hair was entirely gray. 

I left the elevator and ran to the glass door. The sparkling snow kept on falling, but it did not stop me. Once outside, I took a deep breath, but glitter entered my mouth. I started coughing. "Dammed glitter," I thought while walking to the parking lot. I looked around. A few people were outside, barely moving. "What is happening? Why don't they leave? I kept on questioning myself. And then, I saw my shoes and legs, all covered with shiny dust, my hands hurting below all the glitter, my energy disappearing while walking in that dreamy landscape of white, blue, and silver. I stopped and closed my eyes. My handbag and my coat fell on the silver pavement. I took out my shoes and dragged my feet. I realized what I'd become, what I was... a shiny figure in a beautiful snow globe.