Cardinal sin

Sweater

Your cheeks were still hot as your alarm made you aware of your lunch break. You stood, stretching slightly and moving to grab your sweater. It was mid-april, and the breeze still had its chill from the winter months, despite being well into spring. When your fingers reached the back of your chair, you were surprised to feel the smooth material of the chair, and not the knit of your sweater. You paused, looking down. It hadn't fallen. It wasn't there. Your sweater was missing. You knew you had worn it to work today- you distinctly remembered dripping a few wayward drops of coffee on it when you sputtered from trying to drink the overly-hot beverage too quickly on the train. You remembered peeling it off when you got to your cubicle, and thinking to yourself it wouldn't stain because of the deep maroon color, and that it would be dry by lunch. But now it was lunch, and it wasn't here. Where did your sweater go? You grimaced.

Because you had forgotten your lunch, you would need to go somewhere to order it, and without your sweater, you would be freezing your ass off outside. You took a deep breath, calming yourself to think rationally. The sweater probably fell outside of the cubicle. It was a pretty unisex sweater, and if someone was to pick it up, It'd be difficult to discern who it would belong to. A person wouldn't want to interrupt anyone's work on a Friday- the office is far too busy then.

So, logically, the sweater would be in the lost and found bucket in the breakroom. You knew where the bucket was, due to the orientation that Yumi had graciously provided your first week here- and you also knew that if all else fails, there are bagels and fruit provided in the breakroom with a small stipulation. You had to eat in the room. Company policy, to encourage friendly conversation between coworkers. You didn't want to be rude- or be reprimanded, but you were HUNGRY. And with new cookie appearing on your desk every half-hour on the dot, you needed REAL food before you ran through the whole day on a sugar high.

You entered the breakroom and made a B-line for the lost and found. You squatted, putting all of your weight on the balls of your feet as you pulled the mint green lid off of the plastic tote. Your hands worked quickly, digging through jackets, scarves, hats, and mismatched gloves. You let out a heavy sigh of disappointment. It wasn't there. Nothing resembling the Maroon cashmere resided in the plastic tub in front of you.

You frowned. Damn. That thing was expensive. Your parents had gotten it for you last year for your birthday, and you loved the way it kept you warm while also managing to not be too bulky. You felt a wave of sadness, and then promptly pushed it away. It would be fine. Hawks paid you far more than enough to afford another sweater, and it's not like your parents would be angry with you- you didn't even live with them anymore. You'd moved out two months ago, wanting space to be an adult on your own. Again, you could definitely afford it.

You rolled back onto your heels with a low wine and a pout. You hugged your knees, and sighed loudly. You were a grown adult, and you had already decided there was no real reason to be upset about your missing sweater, but you still felt like throwing a tiny bit of a tantrum about it. You weren't going to cry about it- it wasn't that important- but it was worth at least twenty seconds of uninterrupted frustration. So you did just that, brooding angrily for several long moments. You had time to spare- you weren't going anywhere for lunch, after all. "Stupid sweater." You mumbled, placing your hands on the ground and pushing yourself into a standing position.

"So- you don't want it back?" The familiar voice of your boss asked, again standing directly behind you. His wings were not spread fully, but they were puffed up- they looked freshly preened. In his hand, he held your aforementioned sweater. The stain was gone, and it looked softer than usual. You reached out for it, and he handed the garment to you with a soft smile. "I had it dry cleaned." He explained, his feathers made a light rustling noise as your fingers brushed his. You had no idea what to say. You stood there, in stunned silence, for several long moments. Mulling over possible responses in your head in rapid succession. After a few heartbeats, you spoke, shoving down your social anxiety for a few breaths.