Grooving to Life's Beat

I've Got Something to Tell You, Friend

I stared at the clock, its endless ticking clawing at my nerves. The stack of papers in front of me had morphed into an indecipherable mess of legal jargon that I couldn't seem to focus on. My fingers tapped rhythmically against the desk, a subconscious plea for escape as I glanced at the half-finished summary for the Forsyth case. I was drained. Mentally, emotionally, and in every other conceivable way.

"Miss Spencer, is the Forsyth case summary done yet?"

Alfred's voice broke through my thoughts, sharp and cutting. I looked up, startled, at the sight of him; gray-haired, frowning, and holding yet another file. His expression carried the same disapproval it always did, etched deep into the lines of his face.

"Uh, almost done," I said quickly, shuffling the papers in front of me like that would somehow make them look more complete.

Alfred's eyes narrowed, his frown deepening. "Almost? It was due an hour ago. Court deadlines don't wait for 'almost done,' Miss Spencer."

A knot tightened in my chest, and I forced a tight smile. "I'll finish it right now. Just need a few more minutes."

He sighed, the sound heavy with disappointment. "Make sure you do. And if you intend to keep working here, I'd suggest focusing on your tasks instead of whatever else has your attention."

I nodded, my teeth pressing together as I swallowed back a retort. It wasn't like I wanted to be distracted, but my brain just wouldn't cooperate. If only he could understand that.

But how could I focus with Marshall occupying every corner of my mind? His sudden disappearance, that ridiculous conversation outside Angela's door, and the way he'd looked at me when he said we wouldn't work. It kept playing on a loop in my head, each time more painful than the last. What did I even do wrong? Was it Jeannine? Or was it me, falling too fast, too hard?

The more I tried to bury those thoughts, the louder they got. Each time I tried to push Marshall out of my head, he seemed to creep back in, consuming my thoughts, twisting them into knots that I couldn't untangle. And no matter how hard I worked, how many files I buried myself in, I couldn't shake the feeling that everything was unraveling around me. At work, in my personal life, everywhere.

Finishing the summary took another ten minutes, and by the time I hit print, I felt the weight of the day dragging me down even more. I glanced at the clock; 5:00. If I left now, I'd make it in time to meet Angela. We had agreed to have that night out we'd talked about a few days ago, and I knew it was time to come clean. I had to tell her everything about Marshall. Even though I dreaded her reaction, I couldn't keep hiding this.

Oh God, she's going to be so mad at me!

Summoning what little energy I had left, I grabbed the file and walked toward Alfred's office. His door was slightly ajar, and I knocked lightly before stepping in.

"Alfred?" I ventured cautiously.

He looked up from his desk, his glasses perched on the end of his nose as he scribbled something onto a legal pad. His frown deepened. "What is it now?"

"I finished the Forsyth summary. It's on your desk." I hesitated, my fingers twisting nervously. "I was wondering if I could leave a little early today? I've completed the rest of my work, and..."

Alfred cut me off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Fine. Go. But make sure all the other files are in order by tomorrow morning."

I nodded quickly, grateful to escape without too much of a fight. "Thank you, Alfred."

He didn't respond, already buried back in his work, but I didn't stick around to wait for another critique. Grabbing my coat and bag, I left the office in record time, practically sprinting for the elevator.