•Dichotomy•
|"A division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different."|
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How many silhouettes can one trap in oneself? How many faces can a mask hide...
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The rain that was thrashing down the earth heavily, had worsened and dampened his mood. And the aroma of the wet soil mingling with the refreshing scents of the leaves did little to calm him down.
His eyes were closed in anticipation of the aftermath of the step he was going to take today.
And in this dilemma, he sneered with pleasure. Pleasure in not being able to predict the course of events as he was usually able to. That was what was intriguing to him about Alexandra. She was unpredictable in many ways.
So he closed his eyes and tried to predict some of her actions. The events that would be taking place in a span of mere few minutes once she was on fire.
She walks up the stairs of the East Wing.
Then she visits Julia in her office first.
Then Julia conveys that I want her here.
She grows a bit frigid, but tempted enough to find out the due course of her fate.
Then she hurriedly climbs the stairs to my office through the stairs; poor thing does know her place to not use the private elevator.
And then in a few seconds . . . . .
3, 2, . . . 1
Here we go!
She is barging in my office like an insolent brat.
And a smirk plastered on his face, when in a few minutes, everything of the scenario he enacted came to life.
The doors to his office burst open and he knew she was here. He heard her footsteps shuffling closer to him. He straightened his head and opened his eyes only to see something that anyone else would never dare to do in his presence.
The woman was walking in his direction with her head held high. Even in a situation where she could have her bridges burnt by him in a wink, she looked as cool as a cucumber.
The tap of the heels that echoed in silence resonated irregularly for a split second, indicating that she was staggering on her feet.
Her bated breath gave way to her nervousness however much she tried to hide it.
"Sit."
Alex sat across him on a chair. She eyed the office contemplating where to rest her eyes at. Her fingers were clasped tightly in her lap, waiting for him to speak.
"You were right. Gerard was found guilty of whatever you accused him of."
". . . . ", she nodded slightly.
"And since the truth has been confirmed, you can return back to your job without a hitch."
There was nothing that reflected from his face, and his words sounded pretentiously empty. Innately, he was testing her.
