"Can you 𝘯𝘰𝘵 touch shit if you don't know what it does? " Michael slammed his hand down on the paper I had in my hand, about to feed it into a strange machine.
"I know what it does. Stop assuming I'm stupid. " I snapped.
"I'm not assuming shit, it's just a fact. "
Michael adjusted the cuffs on his wrists, giving me a snarky look over as he moved to tip his cup of coffee to his lips. A few moments later, he ran a hand through the fur on his head and raised his brows,
" We both know you don't belong here. Stop messing with shit and sit your ass down, pretend you're being helpful. "
I opened my mouth to retort, but Michael flicked his gaze past me and briskly pushed me aside. He lined up to be face to face with a group of cosmetic experts, whispering with them before being ushered away.
I sighed, bending down to scoop the paper off the ground. Standing back up, I leaned against the counter to peek around the corner and watch Michael.
He was seated in a chair, listening intently to a woman waving her hands about. She was clearly nervous, but the mouse's intense glare didn't waver. If anything, he seemed to be getting more upset by the second, and her shaking got worse the harder he stared.
A file was handed to him, but he didn't open it. He chose to lower his lids and snarl something to the poor woman, slamming the file onto the makeup-covered table in front of him and folding his hands across his lap.
The woman blanched before smiling warmly and stepping aside for the makeup team to reach Michael.
She spun around to walk away, reaching up to wipe a tear from her eye before it could spill and ruin her impressive makeup.
She nodded once to a man wearing a black pressed suit and was escorted out of the room and up the stairs, a hand on the small of her back as she struggled to breathe normally.
Looking back at the mouse, I realized he was staring at me.
With one finger, and an extremely unamused expression, he signaled for me to sit down- even going as far as mouthing it, before being crowded and drowned from my view.
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴𝘴.
A very large part of me did 𝘯𝘰𝘵 want to know what had just happened, but the smarter side knew that I'd find out eventually either way.
Beside the mysterious machine was a coffee maker, which I actually 𝘥𝘪𝘥 know how to use.
Frankly, I didn't drink coffee much, it was bitter and disgusting, but it did the job when it came to waking me up and tearing my attention away from distractions.
I nabbed a black mug that read " Best employee" from a rack and placed it under the machine, pressing my forehead against it as it started to boil.
Oh god. The headache was forming. At least I was already making the coffee to soothe it.
I decided to sit at a nearby table as I waited for my coffee to brew, setting down my bag next to the cushioned seat and pulling out my phone.
YOU ARE READING
Getting Better
FanfictionIn a giant, busy city, little people actually care about those who leave home and never come back. The world is too large, and the work never ends. No one would notice if just two people went missing, and that's not even a question. VERY inspired f...
