The King

My back straightens as soon as I walk past the glass doors of the NASA headquarters. My feet protest. The "click-clack" of my heels sounds more like cackling.
I'm a woman of science, and I should've know my feet aren't compatible with these shoes. They've spent most of their lives kicked up on the coffee table.
Right as I enter my lab, I hear, "Hey, Dionne, I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure your spine isn't supposed to be bent like that."
I agree, but at least I'll close my exercise ring once I tumble down the stairs.
I close the door and lean slouch against it as I face my coworker, Cherry, who sits on my office chair.