2
Since Städa’s expansion, Ava hadn’t seen much of her boss, Karl. But now here he was in the conference room, setting out wedges of cake and Useful Utensils. The last few years had worked on his appearance. When he’d recruited her, many years before, when the company was made of a half-dozen woodworkers, Karl had been strapping and bright-eyed. Now his tall, thin frame slumped. His shoulders were rounded, and his mop of blond hair had begun to thin.
Behind him, the word imagine was projected onto the wall in STÄDA’s signature sans serif font, the letters dissipating and gathering again in a flashy loop of transition effects. Ava wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t noticed this particular addition until now; the rebranding of the company was occurring constantly, all around her, at a dizzyi
