The lobby was like a pristine mirror maze. Every surface gleamed in all its perfectly polished glory; the black marble floors with veins of glossy white running through them were polka dotted by the dazzling reflections cast from the ceiling and lustrous steel pillars ringed by gleaming halos of white florescent light rose from the ground, stoically circling the immaculate capital ‘M’ that took its place of pride in the centre of the room. Off to the side, behind another marble block sat three figures, two women and a man in suits, dark grey and faultlessly ironed, with a tiny triangle of white poking out, not even close to contesting the perfect gleam of the architecture. Curious to imagine the state of the ones who cleaned this place, whether they are equally as polished, or whether they become recipients of the dust and dirt the room rejects.