I started typing away on my computer, the words flowing easily as I got into the zone. I wrote about the coffee machine's daily struggles, its joys and its sorrows. I wrote about the countless cups of coffee it had dispensed, the late-night conversations it had witnessed, and the early-morning rushes it had endured.
As I wrote, I found myself getting more and more into character. I was no longer just Delilah, the assistant secretary. I was the office coffee machine, pouring my heart and soul into every cup.
Finally, after what felt like hours, I finished the song. I read it over, making a few tweaks here and there, and then I saved it to my computer.
I took a deep breath, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment. I had done it. I had written a song about the office coffee machine.
I stood up, stretching my arms over my head, and then I walked over to Raphael's office. I knocked on the door, and when he called out, I entered.
Raphael looked up from his computer, a hint of amusement
