Feminine Revenge [Ongoing]

Chapter Ten: G'mornin

"Lennon Jones!"

The loud voice of Mr Carval in the morning hits me full in the face the moment I walk in and so does the door the moment I stumble a step.

I stand outside, staring at the offending door, gathering my wits and dignity for a few seconds before attempting this again. The second time around, I keep my hand in front of me as protection against the fickle thing and lodge it open, just like it had been before I attempted to walk past it this lovely morning.

Mr Carval looks up again and smiles again as if nothing had just happened and we'd simply wordlessly decided to start our day over again. "Lennon Jones!"

Thing is, the second time around his voice isn't much quieter than the first. He stays quiet after that, his eyes laser-focused on me and lip clamped so tightly together he looks constipated. Rude thing to say of my boss but it's not like he'll ever know. It takes me a moment to realize but when I do I understand just how much he's trying not to laugh at me. Doing a rather fine job too.

I smile back and wave cordially. "G'morning."

"Took, uh ... quite the fall there didn't you. Are you doing alright?" The humour in his voice is unmistakable.

"Yes, thank you for your concern," I reply, stiffly. This will only be funny for me when the sting has worn off.

He shrugs. "We all have our bad days."

I nod and walk off to my office. It's not that this day had been particularly bad or anything. The temperature outside is nice and all. It leads to a pleasant walk to work. The breeze was warm and stirred at my clothes while I walked. The clouds shielded me from the burning of the sun, but the subtle warmth still remained. I woke up in a nice mood too. Not lethargic and not tired. It was a decent day other than the fact the door dislodged itself as I walked through.

I glance at the calendar that hangs on the wall next to my door, tapping my pencil on the desk. I try not to notice the date too much and instead concentrate on whether or not I have anything, in particular, to do in the next week or so. I don't but I also fail in not noticing. It's been three years ... no, it's been over three years now.

It doesn't hurt as much anymore. I miss him so much it drives me up the walls. I don't like the quiet and I miss someone to be there. His eyes and voice fading from my memory scare me, it does, but it isn't fading all too fast. One day I'll forget how his eyes crinkled at the corner but maybe it's for the best. Won't hurt as much.

Still, it's not bad. It really isn't. It's a dull throb. An echo of the tears which I had once shed. There were only occasional pangs of pain when I spoke into the empty air or accidentally laid something out for him. I miss little things like his hand on my neck and smell he carried around with him. Bittersweet.

There is still beauty in the world. The sun still shines, especially in the summer, even though it is hidden behind clouds.

It's okay.

I won't forget him.

* * *

"Mr Jones, are you available at the moment?"

I lift my head up from my notebook to see the speaker who asked that. There is the doorway I see Callum Baker, which is no surprise to me. He has seemed to have attached himself to me ever since I was the one assigned to his integration. I don't know what about my deadpan personality and perfect formality appeared appealing to him. Perhaps it's the formality. It demands cordial politeness after all.

Not that I mind him too much. It's not the trope that many distant friends of mine complain about whenever we go to get a beer. I felt a little spark of happiness every time he came around to ask me about whatever was on his mind or plate at the moment. It nice to be needed. Nothing beyond that. It's nice all the same.