Afterlife: Reincarnation

3

May 18

HARRY

"The cafeteria downstairs provides light snacks and sandwiches if you don't want to venture out, but they are overpriced, in my opinion," the tall, leggy blonde leading my way explains. Her voice is rather nasal, and even though she has a killer figure, I just wish she would shut up and leave me to it. "You get an hour for lunch every day, so I suggest popping out to any of the little cafes around. There are a lot of good ones to choose from thankfully," she turns to me, giving me an appreciative smile. "I can recommend a few if you'd like."

I groaned inwardly. Really? Flirting with the intern in the first day? Classy.

Forcing a smile, I shake my head. "I'm sure I can find something satisfactory,"

Her flirtatious grin fades slightly, before she turns and continues with my tour of the building.

"There are three new interns in total, including yourself. You wont be expected to work together in any real capacity, but on occasion may be required to fill in in some other departments. I'm sure they explained that in the interview?"

"They did,"

She nodded, stopping at an empty cubical in a sea of the same. We stood in a large room, something out of a drone theme film, all the little worker bees silently hunched in their cubes, diligently working away. Glancing at the space where we have come to stop, I am thankful to see that I am next to the window. At least I wont feel like I am in a prison.

"This will be your desk," the explained, gesturing to the small space. "Feel free to add whatever personal features you wish. But keep it clean," she giggled. "Some interns in the past have felt it appropriate to have playboy calendars in their space."

I snorted. "Quite diverse of them,"

The woman cackled an annoying laugh, as if my quip as the funniest thing she had heard in years. Jesus. Why was her voice so fucking annoying? Overall, she was attractive. Short, bob cut blonde hair that bounced as she walked. Her brown eyes were a dark contrast to her light hair, and like I said, she had a killer body. Normally, I would be able to look past her annoying laugh and nails on a chalkboard voice. But now, all I could see was that she wasn't Lane.

"You will be expected to review, edit, and make copy notes on at least two manuscripts a week. Over time, your number will increase, but we always start new people off low, to give them time to adjust."

I nodded, knowing that normally I read up to four or more books on any given week. Even while I was in university. Reading was my escape, my release. To be able to removed myself from my own life, as it were, and escape into someone else's was the ultimate relief for me. To pretend, even for a little while, that I wasn't me.

"We do ask that you keep the computer for work needs only," she added, pointing to the old PC on my desk. "The occasional personal email is fine, but don't make a habit of searching for personal materials."

"More porn incidents, again?" I blurted, mentally smacking myself in the face for my lack of filter. Thankfully, she laughed, not seeming to take offence.

"Is there anything else you need?" the girl asked, tipping her head in a seductive motion.

Plastering on my best fake grin, I shook my head. "No, I'm good."

She seemed genuinely disappointed. Were all women this transparent? Or had I just become too accustom to Lane and her cryptic, reclusive tendencies?

"Okay then," she said, gesturing to my desk. "You're first manuscript is already on your desk. Go ahead and get started. And just let me know if there is anything you need, or any questions you may have. My office is just over there," she pointed to a sleek, glassed space just beyond the cluster of cubicles. It was the epitome of the proletariat design, the master overlooking the drones.