One-Sixty-Three
Reality‘s never been but a rag for me to hide myself from unsolicited peepers and visitors. All I need to tell them is the name I go by for administration, what my job profile says about what I‘m supposed to be doing at the office, and maybe give them an idea of how much I make every month or per year. Makes people happy to know these things, called facts. Makes them believe they‘d like to be friends with me because we have so much in common ...
From sheer boredom I occasionally venture to offer a hint or two at what‘s lurking in the beyond of these so called facts. Makes people laugh. They invariably think I‘m joking. Think I‘m a fun girl, a girl to have fun with. They like having fun so they seem to like me as well, provided I don‘t give them reason to wonder and to rack their grinding mental processing units from the pre-digital era ...