Her Mark

I sat, awed by her work. Everything was in perfect detail and spelled correctly. I looked back up at her, to see her looking at me curiously.

"Is it bad?" she asked curious.

"N-no. Not at all. This is just fine, Ms. Chris," I stammered, laying probably the next best seller. She smiled kindly and nodded her head.

"That's good. Oh! I'll have the next chapter to you on Thursday, Mr. Jones" Ms. Chris said told me. I smiled at her and nodded my head.

"I'll be looking forward to it, Ms. Chris," She waved goodbye to me and scampered out of my office and into the hallway. I smiled as I watched Ms. Chris walk away. I snapped out of it when my heard my office phone ring. Startled, I picked it up.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Ms. Isabel is here to see you, Mr. Jones," said my secretary.

"Alright, send her in," I ordered and hung up. After, a few minutes, a woman in her late twenties with a business suit on and heavy makeup came on and casually took a seat in front of me, handing me documents.

"I see that child came to see you again," she said as she flung her hair over her shoulder.

"So?" I said looking through the documents.

"So? You seem to be in a good mood," said Ms. Isabell.

"Worry about your work. You have a few misspelled words on the bottom paragraph and I want more detail," I said tossing the document over to her. She huffed.

"I bet you don't get that strict with that child, Mr Jones," she huffed. I leaned on my desk and chuckled.

"That's because she can write like a poet," I stated.

"Oh?" she said intrigued.

"Her writing is beautiful. All of her emotions are in what she writes. It's like looking at a piece of art," I rambled. I stopped when I heard her chuckle," What?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just interesting to listen to you talk fondly about someone, Allen," said Ms. Isabell.

"Mr. Jones is what you use in my office. And I mean it. She's better than a lot of other Authors I meet up," I sigh. Ms. Isabel stood up and walked over to my side of the desk and sat on it.

"I must say... You sound like you're in love," she mocked. I scoffed.

"I would never fall in a love with a minor. I fell in love with her stories," I corrected. She only seemed to smile fondly.

"She's only 16 isn't she? And your 25 of course you're still going to like young women," she laughed. I sighed and ran my hand through my brown hair.

"10 years. 10 years apart. I'll fall in love with an adult. Not a child," I stated.

"Like me?" she slurred getting closer to me.

"I'm not interested in old hags either," I said moving to the side and working on some work only to be cut short with a pretty good punch into the jaw.

"I. Am. Not. Old," she growled.

"Understood," I groaned.

"Mr. Jones, I signed us up for a program at a public school to teach young students what they need to do in their future jobs. So we decided that this student will be working with you. Treat her kindly and don't be rude," said my higher up, leaving the room to go and fetch her.

"Great. An distraction," I sighed turning to the open window. The city always seemed so small from this height.

"Um. Mr. Jones?" I heard that familiar voice of the young lady that came to my office every 2 days a week.