Four

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Elijah found his meeting  excruciating and exasperatingly long. Each time another person stood, looking at him from the corner of their eyes, sweat coating the top of their brows. Their voices became a blur as his eyes traveled to the window. Rain streaked down and blurred the outside world. 

He gave up looking out the window and stared at his watch. The watch was a family heirloom his great-great-grandfather crafted himself. It was Elijah's favorite accessory. Sixty seconds passed agonizingly, his leg bounced unsteadily. Why was time so slow today? He knew it was because he wasn't with Clara; she was the only person who could make the passage of time tolerable.

With her name on his mind he mused over their daily text conversations. When she was especially excited, she would call him and chat about her latest passion for hours. He'd hum along and paint what he thought her expressions looked like. When he would complete the image he wound close his eyes, staring at the masterpiece move to the cadence of her voice. She was—for his lack of a better word—littlest when he'd tease her for her ineptitudes. His little comments like: "you're to little for that, huh" and "if you're going to do that you need my supervision; you're too little to do that alone." 

Perhaps out of context he was no better than a passive misogynist. However, he knew better than to withhold his teasing because his baby loved them and would miss it dearly. He remembered their last conversation with longing. Longing for the delicious fire she elicited with her coy glances and rosy cheek. Time was too slow, he needed to see her now. 

"Mr Micheals?"

He lazily focuses back to the board meeting. His subordinates watched with nervous anticipation and he enjoyed their eagerness to please him. "Yes, Pepper?" Pepper's cheeks and lips were identically hot pink. He always laughed at how she wore everything pink. He resented her for ruining pink, but seeing the color on Clara made him appreciate the simple color once more. He no longer blamed Pepper because only his Clara could make it look so precious. Pepper couldn't help that she was no match for his Clara. 

"We wanted to hear your input about the diagnostics?"

Pepper's voice sounded like squeaky shoes on linoleum. His headache intensified and only the delicate murmurings of a certain girl could ease it. "Well, your diagnostics are critical toward the structure of my company. This company has a reputation for supplying our workers equitable wages and benefits. You aren't attempting to send my company into the ground, are you?"

"No sir." 

Silence leaves the air chilling tense. Each member is frozen in their seats and sweat dubiously coats their foreheads. He smiled and stood up. "Good. Glad to hear my staff continues to honor our long history of propriety and equitability. I'll be taking my lunch break, now. When I come back I expect the diagnostics to be on my desk. I'll review it and make my corrections. Have a good day everyone." 

He was actually going to cut his work day in half and wasn't too bothered by his paperwork. He'd rather be happy than filthy rich. He wanted to be irrevocably content that he could walk away from the family tradition and pursue his dreams. He sat in his car and stared at his sliver rings adorning his fingers. Unbeknownst to him tears fall from his eyes and grieved the probability that he would always be at this office. He hated having to play politics. He hated meetings and he hated talking to people who thought he was wrong. He wished they'd understand why he did what he did. He thought that with time, people would come around and appreciate his desire for fairness. Instead, he heard nothing but slanderous rumors about him being a strict and unforgiving boss.

He was unsure if what he was doing was right at this point. He couldn't see how what he was doing was worth it since it did nothing but make him miserable. Everything meeting his subordinates undermined and doubted his principles. He determined that he couldn't give up his principles, otherwise that would be a complete waste of his life. One day, he would leave it all behind, he promised himself this much. 

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