Poison and Cure

IX - Stimulation

بسم الله
In the name of God
August 28th, 2004 1:36am
Augusta, GA, Center of Decay

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This is hell.

I don't have the solution.

Her brown irises are covered by eyelids that are a few shades darker than her skin, which hang low with exhaustion. She's yawned at least three times in the last five minutes, and her head resting on her fist shows her tiredness.

The niqab she always wears covers her entire face except for her eyes. I don't know why they're so pretty. I don't think the color is nice in particular, but... I believe I think they are pretty because they are hers.

O, Allaah.

"Miss October," I call. She glances up, before immediately looking down as her dark eyelashes blink at me.

"Yes, sir?"

"Go home, you've done enough for today," I say, gesturing to the wall clock that reads 1:56 am.

"But I'm not finished, Mr. Silas," she protests, a small bounce of energy entering her scratchy, sleepy voice, "I can finish it all and do a good job, too, an-"

"Yes, well, you're making me tired just looking at you. Go home."

"Who's going to finish it?"

"Me, or you tomorrow. Please get some rest. I don't want you falling asleep when I need you most."

She reluctantly nods before setting aside the papers and gathering her things into a black bookbag.

"Do you need anything else before I leave, sir?"

I shake my head, "No, thank you. Get some rest, Miss October."

"Yes, sir," she replies, rubbing her left eye as she makes her way out the door. Her oversized pale brown hoodie hangs off her sleepy frame as she closes the wooden door behind her, leaving behind silence and taking the liveliness that came with her.

Should I fire her? Or assign her to someone else?

I shake my head and prepare myself to neaten up enough so I won't put the lab in danger via fumes or spilt substances. After checking to make sure everything is put away properly, I figure I should put away the papers. Crossing the room and settling into the seat she sat in minutes before, I begin to finish the paperwork. Unfortunately, it's only seconds before the scent of her distracts me. No, it's not perfume, just the natural and distinct scent every human has. It's wonderful and her and distracting, so I force myself to change seats.

My hands begin to write down words in the empty spaces and cross out the boxes in checklists, all without my conscience being aware.

Because my conscience is occupied.

Unusually, I am daydreaming instead of calculating, something that was rare for me.

A woman that works for me has made me feel some type of way about her. Nothing she's done in particular. But for a simple reason, I think... I think I admire her. I'm not so naive to call it love, and I'm not so stupid that I'll even entertain the idea. Just admiration. Of her beauty, her intelligence, and her laugh, her questions, her confidence, and her acceptance of needing improvement. Genesis's words, of course, are not mine. I don't think she needs improvement a fraction as much as she claims. But to even verbally say it with such nonchalance and genuineness is admirable since she is the most flawless person to have ever breathed in our lifetime.

She's wonderful.

I shake my head and set aside the paperwork, suddenly eager to head home and away from the space we often share together. I... I admire her characteristics, and I'm not a fool to think that either of our admiration for the other goes beyond that.