Bass-awkwards

The conference room is perfectly situated as a pass-through between the opposite sides of the office when nobody is using it. The gray light from a February day leaves it gloomy and dark as one of the Senior staff and I cross paths.

"I think I might have been dyslexic at some point," she says continuing a conversation we started earlier, "because I know what I want to say, but my brain is going too fast, and I twist all my words around and say everything backwards."

"I know exactly what you mean," I say, which is sort of becoming my answer in most office conversations these days.