|ᴜʀʙᴀɴ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ|
|ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ|
☯︎︎ ❣︎
One night stands were Yora's thing. Michael Jackson was no different. One night was all they had.
*Dissociative Identity Disorder*
A disorder characterized by the presence of two or more distinct per...
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Monday Morning
❣︎ Yora ❣︎
For once, I was glad the weekend was over. It didn't mean that my sorrows had passed along with it, but I at least had a job to distract myself from dwelling over it.
All weekend I tried to figure out something for Gran's funeral, but neither me or Ta'rae had the funds. We didn't have six thousand dollars to spend. If we used the money we had, we'd be on the streets.
And it wasn't like I could just go and ask my boss for a bonus check like that.
So as of right now, she was sitting in a cold freezer in the hospital morgue.
I came into the Jackson Realty lobby with teary eyes and no makeup to hide behind. I tried, but it all just smudged once the tears inevitably started to flow again.
"Good morning..." Pam stopped in the middle of her greeting once she saw the shit show that was me in front of her.
"Ms. Monroe, is everything alright?" She asked with more curiosity than concern.
I didn't feel like running through my whole sob story at nine in the morning, so I just forced a weary smile.
"Yes, I'm fine, thanks." I said in my best attempt to hide my voice from cracking. "I just didn't get much sleep, that's all."
That was actually the truth.
"Oh, alright." She replied, not buying it at all. She rummaged through a few folders before handing a few papers that have been stapled together. If this is what I thought it was, today was going to be a hell of a long day.
"This is Mr. Jackson's schedule for today. Jam packed, am I right?" She said with a lighthearted giggle.
I forced one of my own. "Clearly." I said. "He's probably waiting on me, so I'll be going."
She smiled and waved a goodbye to me as I made my way to the elevators. On my way up to his office floor, I tried my absolute best to make myself look more presentable. It seemed to work in the slightest. Hopefully my reflection off of the elevator doors weren't lying to me.
They slid open on his office floor and I stepped out. The only sounds were the sound of my heels clicking against polished marble floor. I was more aware of them because of how slow I was walking.
I reached his office and knocked before hearing a somewhat quiet, "it's open."
I pushed the door open to see Michael standing by a shelf adjusting a few books that he had arranged on them. In fact, the whole office had been organized.
