This Is Inevitable | #ONC2022

Chapter 1 | This Is Work

My soul nearly leaves my body as Ayisha pops her head into my cubicle, greeting me in a shrill annd chirpy voice, two paper cups of what I hope is coffee in either hand. It is far too early in the morning for happy sounding voices; she should know this by now. 

Either way, I let her in, despite her giggling at me practically jumping six feet from my chair. She sees my sullen face and frowns.

"God, what's got you in a funk? Amir being a prick again?" Ayisha says, handing me a cup. Yes, it was coffee. I take a sip. 

"You know, one day he's going to walk past and hear you and then you'll be joining me in the doghouse," I say, relishing in the sweet taste of coffee and hazelnut syrup. Ayisha knows exactly how to wake me up; I don't know how I ended up with her as a friend, but without her, I think I'd have quit a long time ago. She's the only friend I've made in a month since working here; she's stuck with me know whether she likes it or not and I hope she's aware of that.

"He loves me, just like you do. I'll be fine. Doghouse though? What've you done?" she asks, a worried half-smile on her face. Seriously, her upbeat voice is sickening. I take another sip. It's slightly less sickening. 

"I don't know, but he dumped a few more manuscrips on my desk this morning. That makes seven! Seven goddamn things I've got to read by the end of the week to give him something good to give to editors, which means I have barely any time to do any writing of my own. Ugh, I knew being his assistant was a challenge, but not this bad."

She smirks. "The fuck you mean? I've told you horror stories of the last few assistants he's had. You know what you got into, don't be too whiney or he'll have to get someone else."

I can only respond with a grimance. She takes a sip of her coffee--an iced long black, I assume--before settling in my guest chair opposite my desk. 

Wearing a plaid pencil skirt, a tightly buttoned blouse, high heels and her curly hair tied up in a tightly pulled back bun, you'd take one look at Ayisha Mwanajuma and think she'd kill you on the spot for looking at her the wrong way. But, underneath all that fierce businesswoman attire is a woman with a quick and funny wit, endless rainbows metaphorically shooting out of her ass and a smile so bright it would melt the icecaps.  She's the sugar that balances out my bitterness, much like the syrup in my drink.

Bleh. Maybe that's why she doesn't need sugar in her coffee; she's sweet enough as is. Adding more would just make her melt into some horrific Mary Sue character that the likes of Snow White would find irritating. But still, how can someone drink coffee without sugar? Blasphemy, I tell you. 

Speaking of coffee; another sip seems to wake me up more. My body doesn't ache as bad. Despite many people telling me I should be at my peak, being in my mid twenties fresh out of a crappy rugby league career really does a number on the joins. My muscles, I swear, seem to be shrinking, slowly being replaced by a steadily increasing layer of fat. Guess this is desk-work; wow, no wonder Mr. Incredible turned into a weird lump.

I take a quick glance at the rest of the floor's open office. From my vantage point, I can see how alive it is. I'm in my own glass office separate from the rest of the floor's workstaff--thank God--but Ayisha always makes an effort to check on me throughout the day. Modern couches encased in brilliant shades of red, blue and yellow dot the floor's main office, providing break areas for the many suits and pencilskirt pencil-pushers to take a reprieve or a mental sebattical. Accompanying these are awkwardly-yet-stylishly made wooden coffee tables, an abundance of indoor plants (that I'm not sure have been watered in a very long time, judging from a nearby fiddle fig's crispy leaves) and sickeningly bright throw pillows. It looks comfy, but the chatter coming from there reminds me of a university library; hardly any work, all talk. I shudder at the thought of attempting work in that environment; I'd go crazy.