"Chrissy! Open the door!"
Just as I'm watering my beautiful kumquat and trying to distract myself, the phone beeps, and I growl as I realize that I'm not the only whose day was ruined because of Mr. fungus's annoyingness.
Is this your hot boss shou...
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"Boy, where's Sammy?" shouts Jazzmine.
The accounting guy's reflexes betraying him, he fails to answer back as he jumps in his seat, sweat materializing on his forehead. Scanning us in utter confusion, he tries to recompose himself, jabbing on his mouse a couple of times and closing tabs probably not classified as accounting material.
"How would I know?" he asks, trying to rebel against the woman with a taser.
"Make this quick or else you're going back home on flat tires."
Fear draining every shade of color the guy had in his face, he lifts his pencil, pointing it towards the ceiling. Jazz doesn't bother saying a word and takes it as her green light to drag me yet again like a bag of chips on her way out.
For once neither of the elevators is under maintenance, but Jazz here has decided to be a good girl and work on reaching her new year resolution. The only question remaining in my brain is why I'm forced to accompany her on the purgatory that is the staircase to the eleventh floor! As far as I remember, I've never been half drunk and promised the universe to have my feet bleed in the name of fitness. Pft!
"Oh my god, I can't..." chokes Jazz, stealing words from my mouth.
"Breathe..." I continue, my hands working all sorts of voodoo and witchcraft in search of something to throw my dying body on.
A few coughs tore and tears shed later, we're halfway to looking and sounding like decent humans. It is then that Jazzmine tiptoes her way to the offices, looking for the wanted parasite "I just want to see his face for a second!"
"Jazz, please leave my hand! I don't want to see him!"
No matter how much I protest and fight her grip, Jazzmine insists on dragging me to my office. Having found the parasite, she observes him in silence, disappointed not to have him weeping on the floor with tubs of ice cream to stuff his feelings.
Truth be told, even I am disappointed to see Samuel so composed. His signature poker face is nowhere to be seen, and it seems to me that he's rather happy to be roaming in my office.
Wait a second, what the heck is he doing near my files? That parasite will have me trimming his fingers if he messes up my color organized papers! He's touching them! He is freakin' touching them! Alright Chrys, there's no escaping now. On your marks, get ready, and shoot venom!
"If you plan on galloping here often, I think I'll have to lock the room from now on."
Caught off guard, Samuel turns around forgetting to throw on his classic "I'm a very serious boss" face. Should I go out and come back to give him the time to put it back on? Seeing him smile feels so weird! Heck, I never knew he had teeth!
"Chrysanthemum, how refreshing it is to see you here. I see Ashton has been treating you well."
"He knew my ex-boss wanted me dead in a sardine can."
