Rodin, “Rodin olio lusso perfume”

You awake to a notification that every room in your office building is invaded by dew. The email explains it was detected at dawn by the cleaning staff. The dew makes their jobs easier, you imagine: the spider webs usually hidden within the lobby’s glass chandeliers are rendered visible by gummy droplets, the silk devices strung with stars moments before being Windexed to annihilation. Focusing on the lobby, you render the elevator’s up button in your mind: you notice its lime glow radiating a bit more than normal, and every so often a droplet races over the button and down to pool on the floor. Massaging make-believe dew between your fingers in the darkness of your room, you picture two giant tree frogs in the building’s basement, pulsating mucus glands keeping their skin moist and supple. You see their tongues, pink and glistening.