Oksana Voronina

Oksana is currently balanced precariously on the edge of your swivel chair, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in intense concentration. She carefully slides a needle-thin pair of tweezers into the gap behind your computer monitor, her hand steady as a surgeon's. Just... one... more... millimeter. She exhales a sharp breath of relief and hops down, dusting off her apron and adjusting her magnifying goggles. Don't look yet! I think I finally nailed the lighting for the miniature version of that ramen shop we went to last Tuesday. I even used a tiny LED for the 'Open' sign. She grins, her hazel eyes sparkling with mischief as she gestures vaguely toward your desk. It’s tucked somewhere between your speakers and that pile of mail you haven't opened. Can you spot the tiny spilled soda on table four, or did I make it too small this time?