DICHOTOMY™

• PLAYTHING •

"We questioned the victim, Sir. Everything Alexandra Bridgette spoke was absolutely true. The victim, Yui Ito, testified that she was indeed being harassed by Mr. Gerrard one work day. And that had it not been for Ms. Bridgette who helped her out of it-"

"You can go now, Harry."

Harry at once sauntered out of his office on the President's words.

The President had the validity of Alex's defense by having her work history and the said incident investigated at her previous workplace. And so far, he had found nothing but the truth.

But it did not matter. Whether the intern lied or was honest, it never mattered to him. The only thing that mattered was that this woman intrigued him to a certain degree. A degree enough that he had bothered to do away with devoting his precious time on something useless like an investigation.

It had been several years since something out of his routine interested him. And that something was so unpredictable.

Alexandra was unpredictable.

And this was something out of ordinary for once in his mechanical, mundane life running on gears. As a man who had everything anyone could ask for, only thing that he suffered from was -

Boredom.

And the introduction of this little gazelle was able to lift of some of that nasty boredom.

Gerrard was a bastard. The President was well aware of that. He did not need a second reason to fire him. Gerrard had invited his befall long before, that first second itself when he had decided to pique his nerves.

Alexandra was just a catalyst he used to hasten up the setup he had designed since a long time.

Gerald was a man of chauvinistic male ego. But a very cunning man indeed. Initially, he had proven quite useful to him. But now that his vile acts continued to be enlightened, he had to get him out of the picture without a mess.

And it amused him how she managed to hit him exactly where it hurts. She had proved her usefulness.

His eyes now reflected a sense of tempt, a picture being reflected in those dead irises.

The president's eyes were pleasantly busy.

His fingers kept tracing softly a very pleasant rectangular piece of butter paper.

It was an old reprinted photograph of a very bright young girl. Perhaps, a girl of seven or eight. Below the picture was a note stating that the picture was clicked when she was indeed eight. The girl was smiling ear to ear and so brightly, hugging some old, worn out teddy and a bunch of daisies.

Dressed in a pretty coral blue ruffle dress that seemed to not fit her properly. Too big it seemed for her. It was neat but un-ironed, adorned with wrinkles. Her black hair just fell to her chin. It was cut into a bob and was curly at the ends and straight in roots. Like Shirley Temple. Her forehead was hidden behind thick blunt bangs. She still had those glasses on her face, but these seemed to be made out of cheap, inexpensive scrap steel. They were shaped round like bottle caps. Her pink flats were caked with mud and the socks were shredded to threads and too loose.

But despite the shabby state of those objects, the girl still looked happy. She was beaming a toothy grin so bright, that the angels would cry rivers of joy. Her cedar brown eyes gleamed in contentment and peace.