TILLY MARIE NEARLY loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it's the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn't want to attend. Who would have thought that her father's parti...
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v. how to romance and cry at the same day
"...I have attached the document in this email. If you need help let me know..."
I don't need help. I need to quit.
If anyone can see my face right now, they will run away knowing that they witnessed steam coming out of my ears. Or at least, that's what Toto can see as I can see a frown on his face. The paper in his hand is long forgotten as he continues to show his concern. I'm still not looking at him, instead I'm staring at my screen hoping that it'll crack from the anger that I'm feeling.
Who the fuck decided that it's a good idea to email someone on a well deserved paid vacation for work? When you can simply just have the person in the next room do it?
Clearly, them. I huff out silently. In an office with fifteen writers, they decided that underappreciated workers should do the revising. I wasn't alone in this.
They insist on having me work on it, obviously as I remember the 5 missed calls from the office. They have enough time to call me, why can't they have the time to do it themselves?
"...Schatz?"
I jump in response to the sudden call from Toto, my hands accidentally throwing the phone away. I curse beneath my breath before I reach for it, throwing it into my purse.
His eyes are laced with curiosity, "Are you alright?"
I nod, now remembering I have a company. One that I'm supposed to be entertaining instead of taking the piss from Vogue. "I'm alright, how're you liking the scone?"
"It's good," he nods before he sets down the newspaper in his hand. "You have not touched your food yet."
Right. My hand reaches for the crumpet in my plate, my teeth digging into my breakfast as I chew quietly. My eyes are still staring elsewhere, and clearly it's beginning to bother Toto because of the constant dissociation.
"You're not alright," he deduces, making me nod in agreement. There's really no point in denying. Throughout the beginning of our breakfast, I already told him about my work. He knows how miserable and pathetic my life is, and what did he do as he listened? He smiled kindly, his brows laced with concern, everything that I had seen from other people. But he listened, and I like him for it.
Not wanting to elaborate anymore, he notices how quiet I am and so he decides to say, "You were enjoying your research paper years ago, but you do not look like someone who's been happy with your job for a while now. You should leave the company."
I pause, looking up at him. He does... "You remember me," I watch him nod in confirmation as I continue, "you know who I am. From Dubai."
He only shrugs like I just asked him if the sky was blue. How can he sit here and act like it's a normal Saturday? Does he even know what kind of effect he had on me? This utter— he knows who I am and he doesn't even mention it until now!
