I walk down the street to my office, a boring job in a boring neighbourhood. Well, mostly boring. Except for Mrs. P, she runs the coffee shop and often has mysterious pearls of wisdom for any who will listen. It’s like she knows something we don’t and something we’ll never grasp. I shuffle into the shop.
“Hello Mrs. P”
“Hello Miss Olive,” She says this, looking up from whatever her latest baking creation is, her hyperextended fingers still working whatever it is she’s making. It looks a little bit unsettling in a way I can never quite pin down. Although this is a normal feeling when one spends time with her. “I do hope you brought an umbrella, it’ll rain soon.” The day is a clear one, without a cloud in the sky “and please keep your wits about you today Miss Olive, you are more capable then you believe” She says all of this without a single pause for breath, come to think of it, she never pauses for breath.
“Thanks, Mrs. P. I hope you’re right” as I say that, my order is gracefully placed in front of me today. She always seems to know what my coffee order is, despite it changing occasionally “Have a nice day!” I say as I walk out the door.
“Be careful of me-” she gets cut off as the door swings shut. I try the door. But it’s locked. I sit by the door, trying to peek into the window, it’s suddenly too dirty to see through. As I ponder why my phone goes off. It’s my boss
“Hello?” I gulp “There’s somethi-” Dammit, I got cut off again “I’m sorry. I’ll be right there” Click.
I gulp and walk to my office, as quickly as I can. This skirt trips me up, more than usual and things seem darker outside. In a way I can’t quite put my finger on, I feel like there are about a thousand beady eyes on me. I try and shake the feeling, but it follows me down the street, passing the usually bright windows. After a walk that seems too long, I finally arrive at the office. The elevator is out of service, I guess I’m taking the stairs, to the seventeenth floor, at least it’s good cardio. I climb up to the fifth floor and I’m winded. I need to work out more often and there are twelve floors above me. This is fine, I wanted to sweat through my suit anyways. Floor nine, I can’t do this and I feel like death. I contemplate lying down and accepting my death but no, no death today. I gotta get to work or my boss will kill me, negating my no death rule. Floor fifteen, almost there. I feel like “staying alive” should be playing right now
“Seventeen!” I shout to myself, triumphantly, as I throw open the door, hitting my boss in the face with it. “Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!” I say quickly.
“Get to your desk, Olive.” He says this quietly, knowing by now that he’s fully done with my shenanigans handing me a file “This is today’s workload, please get these submitted to the courts by five tonight”
I nod and walk to my desk, looking at the workload I’ve been given. This is way too much work and it hardly makes sense anymore, it’s almost like the alphabet is slightly wrong. I push it aside and grab my glasses, hoping that they help me understand this a little better. It somehow makes less sense then it did before so I pick my files up and walk to my boss’ office, timidly knocking.
“Come in,” He says, his voice flatter then I’ve ever heard it. It’s almost odd.
“These files, I think the font must be funny because I can’t manage to read them right,” I say hesitantly, the toes of my shoes tapping the floor as I hold the files close to my face, trying one last time to decipher them. No dice.
“Let me have a look,” he says this, still off to me. His face, voice and pose are all so null, deciding I’ll question this after work, I hand them over to him, waiting as he peruses. “They look fine to me, Olive. Try changing your glasses” he hands them back to me, closing the file again.
“But-” I start to protest before realizing it’s of no avail. So I sigh, go back to my desk and try to fumble through. I get to noon, finishing maybe a quarter of the work I usually do, let alone this workload. As I’m grinding through this work I hear a noise behind me. I whirl around and I see my co-worker, Jake holding a plate with a sandwich.
“Oh hi Jake,” I say, smiling.
“Hey Olive,” He says, taking a bite of the sandwich, it looks good. “Want half?” He holds half the sandwich out of me. I nod and take a bite of it. It’s really good
“How’s it going?” I ask, with mayo on my cheek, as I later realized.
“Uh, fine I guess,” He says with that tired expression I know really well from every time he’s confused. Which is a lot.
“Ok, even I know that’s code for not fine, what’s wrong?” I ask, a little concerned.
“The boss gave me this work, and I can’t read it” he starts hesitantly “like at all” I raise a brow “I thought it was a font or something. So I spoke to the bossman” he glances over to my files.
“And?” I ask before he can question me about them.
“Suggested I should get a coffee and clear my head,” He says, shaking his head a little
“Weird,” I say, not telling him I had a similar interaction with the boss.
“Anyways, Sorry Olive but I gotta get going soon. The work awaits” He finishes his sandwich and stands up, starting to walk away
“Bye!” I say waving “Catch ya for drinks later!” I shout after him
I grind through my day, quietly trying to hack through this work until I look up to see Jake being cuffed by two men in grey suits and dark sunglasses. Rushing to his side I ask what the issue is. I get no response. Two men in identical grey suits come up behind me
"Come with us,” They say simply grabbing me by the arms, clamping cold metal handcuffs on me. Far too tightly.
“What did I do?” I ask, dismayed and in pain from the cuffs.
“You know what you did.”
The truth is, I have no idea.
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