Notes- TW: slight Harassment/SA (nothing graphic). I deeply apologise for this.
As Sara turned around her face dropped slightly. Standing behind her, albeit a little too close was her manager, Keith. Keith was a lanky man in his early 40s, with a slight grey stubble to match the uncomfortable aura that seemed to envelope him. ''Hey Keith, what's up'' Sara sighed, before walking up to him.
She can't remember the first time she stopped feeling entirely comfortable around Keith. Perhaps it's the way he stood that little bit too close, or the way his eyes would wander to places not really appropriate for manager-worker relationships. Keith was smart though, he'd never actually done anything provable or fire-able, so she always had this error of doubt whether she was overreacting to this whole situation. The only thing she was sure about was the little lump in her throat she would get when he approached her about something, or the slight caution to his every movement. Whether her fear was valid or not, it did not change the fact she felt scared. Scared of the man that was supposed to be guiding her.
''You're definitely working Sunday right?'' Keith asked, a smug look plastered on his face. Sara once again sighed, she knew what this was. Keith knew full well of the days she worked, and what shifts were being moved, he just wanted an excuse to talk to her. She could almost understand if he thought he was genuinely in for a shot, Sara herself liked to take risks. But the fact that she was an out and proud lesbian, and the man was old enough to be her father made her think that these were more sick games that anything else.
''Yep, I'm working Sundays.'' I always work Sundays. Keith takes note of the not-so-cheerful expression and gives Sara a 'playful' squeeze on her shoulder that was anything but playful. ''You need to smile more, the customers love it darling.'' he says in a teasing tone, which sounds innocent enough but it Sara squirm where she's standing, she can almost feel the malicious intent behind it.
As Keith goes back into his little office, Sara takes a moment to let out a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding. His comments and lingers stay with her even after he leaves, and even though he's gone, she still feels trapped, helpless. It's not like she can get help, what would she even get help for? It's not even like he's ever done anything to me.
Maybe I'm Overreacting.
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My Blank Slate
Aktuelle LiteraturA story of Sara, a misunderstood waitress who everyone assumes has the perfect life. (I wrote this at 1AM because I miss Sara and she may never come back, so I'm sad. Also I was bored don't take this seriously.)
