razorblade | sebastian vettel ✓

chapter 3 | call it fate, call it karma

«The sound of your voice is piercing my patience.»

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Cassandra frowned at the white label. Ten quid for a salad that looked barely edible? Her eyes scanned the whole thing, which didn't even look like real lettuce anyway. She put the container back into its place and looked around for something that looked maybe a little bit less dead and more appetising; she should have known that anything from Tesco would be terrible. Abigail would say something like don't be cheap, just go to Waitrose. Maybe she could learn how to cook with all the free time she had since she got fired.

It had been her idea to get out of the flat to get some food, not only because her stomach begged her for it, but also because her eyes were burning from watching too many Formula 1 for beginners videos and reading the name Sebastian Vettel every five minutes. And Mark Webber, right, he existed too. Every time she looked at a picture with Sebastian in it, the night she hit his car just came pouring down to her. And Cassandra was pretty sure there had to be some sort of irony because she'd never felt so threatened by a pair of blue eyes since her mother's kept creeping in her dreams.

She definitely needed a break, even though her break didn't seem to be as successful and productive at the moment. Cassandra sighed, pulling her phone to check the time. Maybe she could get some real food instead of those dubious things from the supermarket.

Cassandra: Do you want to get some food with me?

The message was for Gareth, she would invite Abigail if she didn't work so fucking far away, according to Cassandra. Gareth was closer, and she was maybe craving something from a restaurant they both used to go to before Cassandra got kicked out of her job. Not that she was still holding a grudge, definitely not.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her reverie.

Gareth: I'm a bit busy with something right now, but if you're down to wait...you could come and wait here while I'm done

Sometimes it made her feel so useless. Her friends were busy, and she was just rotting in her flat feeling sorry for herself and spending her father's money. Cassandra had reached the level of pathetic she never wanted to reach. That was why she needed that stupid article to be perfect.

That didn't mean she wouldn't do anything to put off said article for a couple of hours. She would go crazy if she saw another one of those racing cars or Sebastian Vettel as a whole for that matter. Every time she remembered the situation, Cassandra convinced herself that a higher power made her pay for all her misgivings.

Cassandra: Alrighty, I'm on my way

It was the second time going back to that hell place she used to call workplace since she got fired, that had to be a record, but it was that or lurking in the supermarket and she didn't want to look that creepy.

Gladly for Cassandra, the distance wasn't too far away and she didn't even have to miss the car Abigail had taken that morning. Iman's bored expression changed the moment Cassandra walked out of the elevator.

"Cassandra." Iman grinned as soon as she was close enough to her desk. "This is a surprise, again."

"I'm here for Gareth, you don't mind if I wait for him over there?" She pointed at a couple of chairs on one of the corners of the reception lobby. Iman shook her head and gestured to the chairs uncaringly.

Cassandra took a seat and ogled at the magazines on the little table next to her chair. Those were past editions of the magazine, maybe if she picked one she could find one of her articles there. The idea of working for Hans and the magazine again full-time crept inside her mind like an intrusive thought, and that was enough for Cassandra to realise she was really losing it career-wise.