Trench coat. Check.
Fedora hat. Check.
Notepad and pen. Check.
Camera. Check.
Secretly, slyly, she moved towards the side of the building, the cold and clammy bricks rough against her back as she tried to stay inconspicuous from the crowds of people passing by. Look left, look right. She opened the swinging doors. No bell jingled. Stealthily she took a lift to the 8th floor, heart thudding now in anticipation, the pristine marble mocking her every move. Ping! She started from the elevator’s chime. She had arrived. The piano was playing. There was a classy air swirling around her. She saw the tables, sumptuous in their glory. It was time to start her work.
Presenting:
Go Bake Yourself 