Overworked, Overstressed

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AN: Warning! Tobacco use! Please don't smoke boys and girls! :)

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I stared at the clock in the corner of the room, watching the seconds tick by at an agonizingly slow pace. Whatever words are being exchanged right now sounds like distant, deep mumbling. What was the topic about? Whatever, I'm too tired to bother remembering. The double shot espresso I had earlier today has worn off already, and I'm already feeling the aftereffects. 

Finally, a discernible voice announces, "-and that concludes tonights meeting. Thank you for coming everyone, you are all excused." 

Right, that's why I'm here. Another boring Paldea League meeting with old man Larry talking his head off about budgets and revenue and other business terms. I'm just a receptionist! Shouldn't this be discussed with the corporate slimeballs that run the league instead of us? Whatever. I yawned and packed up my stuff before following my colleagues out the meeting room, down the empty hallways, before arriving at the dimly lit parking lot, where we went our separate ways.

"Bye Larry, bye Hassel, bye Poppy's mom. See you all tomorrow." I said as I left the parking lot.

"You too, Rika." I hear them say. I waved my hand in reply, too tired to look back. Working overtime for the 4th day in a row does that to a person. Trudging my way to a lone bus stop just outside the League building, I sat down on the cold wooden bench and exhaled loudly, waiting for my bus to arrive. Quickly growing bored, I soon found that "feeling" creeping up upon me. Instinctively, I reached into my pocket and took out a pack of Marlboro.

I drew a cigarette, stuck it in my mouth and lit up. The tobacco stick glowed dimly in the darkness as the flame died out, leaving embers at the tip. Putting my lighter and pack away, I took a long, deep drag, letting the warm, choking- no, mild, smooth, and relaxing smoke flow into my mouth and lungs. My head lightens up and my muscles relax as I blew out a puff of smoke, watching it dissipate into the night sky. I rinsed and repeated, and before I knew it, the cigarette was just a tiny stub. I tossed it onto the ground and snuffed it out. 

Looking to my left, I saw nothing coming down the road. Seems like my bus is running late. Again. And it's Thursday, meaning I still got to work tomorrow. I groaned to myself as I drew and lit another cigarette. Is this my 5th one today? 6th? I dunno, I lost track. I put my lighter away, and before I can take another puff of nicotine, a familiar voice jarred me up.

"Aye yai yai, Miss Rika, what are you doing out here this late?"

I turned towards the source of that voice, to find Chairwoman Geeta standing behind me.

"O-oh, Chairwoman Geeta, nice to meet you." I greeted, drawing up my reserves of dignity. "Just waiting for my bus to come. And it's late again."

"I see. May I sit down?" she asked.

"Sure, I don't see why not." I shrugged. "Some company might make this wait less boring."

Geeta sat down besides me and we both stared idly across the street. After a while, Geeta spoke up. "Shouldn't you reign in your smoking, Rika? I'm sure you know its detriments."

"Lung cancer's killing me in 20 years. I'll die to this stress in 20 months." I said as I took another drag and blew out a puff of choking, gray smoke. I noticed Geeta wrinkling her nose, trying to not breathe in the smoke. "Sorry."

"Well, if you don't mind me asking, is the stress really that bad?" Geeta asked.

"You tell me, Chairwoman-"

"Please, Ms. Rika. We're outside of work, just Geeta is fine." she said. God, how does one maintain this constant air of professionalism? I never get it.

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