Isla Holbrooke wakes up everyday knowing she's different. She accepts it, she embraces it, but she's not sure she quite understands it. Her scars are mental, not there to be seen but to be felt.
So when her friend signs her up for a matchmaking ser...
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First-times are always the hardest. It's the first ripple in an otherwise smooth river, and something that has the potential to turn everything upside down. It could be first time love, first time sex, or the first time in changing houses. The point is, nothing remains the same.
In the two years that I've been working for Mr. Castello, the coffee machine has always been broken. It's just the way it is. People would always poke and shake and rattle that thing, but it simply won't work. And nobody has bothered to get it fixed either.
It really didn't matter either. Employees would be forced to go - or get their secretaries to go - downstairs to Starbucks and get whatever flavour they wanted.
Me, however, the broken coffee machine gave me an excuse to get my own personalized mug from home, filled with chocolate milk.
"Oh, where'd you get the coffee from?" A new employee would ask.
To which I would confidently reply, "The coffee machine."
And then they'd go to get some, only to be disappointed.
Until today.
The coffee machine has been miraculously fixed.
Monday morning, Blaire narrows her eyes at me. "Quit frowning." She says. "It's just a coffee machine."
I grumble and take another sip of my chocolate milk. The mug has pretty little roses on it, and the words 'Earth laughs in flowers' are written in brush calligraphy.
"It's the principle of the thing." I tell her.
Blaire and me, our cubicles are right across each other. Lucky for us, Mr. Castello valued us too much, so Blaire, me and two other employees have a little studio built into the office all to ourselves.
"A coffee machine." She dead-pans.
"First it's the coffee machine." I say. "Then it's the tables and chairs and finally, the employees." I cross my arms. "Why did Mr. Castello have to retire?"
"Because he's old and probably going to die." Says Blaire. "Besides, I don't mind his son. Sure, he's strict, but he's easy on the eyes too."
"You think everyone's easy on the eyes."
The other two designers arrive, chatting nervously. They set their bags down and take out their laptops.
My conversation with Blaire drifts into quietness. After a while, I open my briefcase to pull out a few files.
After all this time, I've come to the realization that there's only one thing you should say to people - what they want to hear.
Sure, people say 'Give me the truth, I won't be offended.' But they always will be, no matter how much you sugarcoat it.
