Walking along the aisle

Walking along the aisle of cubicles, morning, 8:30, quiet except for the tapping of computer keyboards and a woman turning from her computer and keyboard tapping to look at me, ceiling, walls, carpet dingy and dirty, there is a chair, old, roller, worn-out cushions, listing, by the entrance to one of the cubicles, with a clear plastic, opened, cellophaned type of pastries, half of them gone.