Trace of Innocence

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Where is the passion when we needed the most?

TODAY, I chose to dress like any other professional woman in the city. I was casual, but smartly dressed in jeans, a hipster jacket and a neck scarf. My face was made up, but not over done and my long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. I was hoping that my choice of outfit could somehow help me in today’s meeting. I pushed the door open to enter the café and I was greeted by the aroma of coffee lingering inside. I immediately saw our editor or should I say my boss, who was seated at the far end corner of the room. He was wearing his usual outfit. Black coat with blue polo underneath, black pants, black shoes, and let me guess, he was also wearing blue socks. How did I know? Sometimes when I entered his office, he usually removed his shoes and placed his leg on top of his table. That’s when I would catch a glimpse of his favorite blue socks.

He was reading yesterday’s news on a local newspaper and when he sensed that someone was walking towards him, he briefly turned his gaze at me as I pulled a chair in front of him.

“Good morning, Mr. Jacinto,” I greeted him when he finally put down the tabloid. The middle-aged man had a fringe of grey-white hair around his balding, mottled scalp.

He just returned the greetings using his cold gaze. In return, I almost rolled my eyes. Typical Jacinto. I’ve been working under his supervision for almost a year now and there was never a chance when he greeted back his fellow employees. Well, they said middle age had a choice of taking either one path or the other. One took the person onward to further maturity. The other was a path to narcism, selfishness, and an inward facing mentality that puts the self first. I am confident anyone who worked under Mr. Jacinto could figure out which path he chose.

“Let’s get straight to the point, Miss Yaneza,” he pointed out and I gulped, as I suddenly felt nervous. “Seeing that you didn’t bring any paper with you or even just a blank paper for props, I must say that you haven’t started writing a manuscript for your novel.”

He stared blankly at me as he waited for my response. I was about to open my mouth to say something when he beat me to it, which he always does, by the way.

“What? The scissors went inside your mouth and cut your tongue?” the sarcastic remark left his mouth like it was a routine. I kept my lips shut because he was about to say more. I just knew it.

Mr. Jacinto sighed dramatically. “Clarissa, you do know that we are beating a deadline here. Why in the world that you haven’t started even just a single paragraph?”

Disappointment could be seen evidently on his face and I could taste the guilt in my mouth. It was my time to let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m really sorry, sir, it’s just… I’m having a bad day lately and I can’t con—”

“That was also your reason last week, and the week before!” he deadpanned. The veins on his neck were almost visible now. “I would have pardoned you if you came up with another reason.”

That was the only reason I could think of. Oh, wait there’s another one, maybe my writer’s block started to kick me again, but I didn't want to admit that to him.

“Sir, it’s the truth. Please give me more time, I’ll get over this.”

“And you must also remember that all of us suffer from bad days. Whether every single day, or every other day. It is a normal occurrence in our life and you don’t have a choice but to move forward. What else will you do, sulk in the corner until you rot? Believe me, that won’t do you any good.”

My eyes blinked in surprise. For a moment, I was lost in the words which he blurted out. It was also the first time I heard him say such things. What’s with the sudden change of aura? Did he drink a good coffee? Or was it the pastry in front of him?