Clear

Clear: Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Simple Expectations

Wednesday

I wagged mascara on my lashes and examined my work in the mirror. My work wasn't spicy enough. I needed more volume! Before I could ruin my lashes with a second coat, a small collar bell jingled outside the bathroom door. My cat, Cinna Buns, appeared outside the open bathroom door. That was my cue to feed her.

Quickly, I bundled my puffy hair into a low bun and dabbed a little blush on my hereditary gift of risen cheekbones. In the kitchen, I filled a tiny bowl with organic brown pellets that were–supposedly–flavored like chicken and rice.

Day two, here we go.

I couldn't wait for Greta to come back from vacation. The benefits of being home alone were long gone after day three of my best friend's two-week vacation. More than anything else, I needed to talk some cash shit about my weirdo boss.

The train ride passed like a blur. I missed a good portion of the podcast I listened to thanks to yesterday's distraction. Did I really have to have lunch with that sexy idiot again? What was useful about yesterday's meeting that warrants repeating? From my end, nothing. I said nothing useful, and I irritated him.

Chris seemed just as baffled when I showed him my second lunch meeting request on my calendar. I wanted to spend time with him, Renee, and the other cubicle dwellers. Instead, I had to eat in detention!

I spent the morning creating a spreadsheet of interface bugs on the new trading platform. Internally, I held strong opinions about the name "Best Trader Beta", but how I felt about it was not a task requirement. The name is terrible!

"Good morning!"

I turned around and saw a round, middle-aged man smiling at me. His aura drew me in. He reminded me of someone I missed dearly.

I stood and shook his hand.

"DeShawn Miller," he greeted. "You must be Ada."

"Yes sir," I said with a smile.

"It's nice to meet you."

When he asked about me, I carefully navigated my history without completely throwing myself under the bus. The past taught me that self-deprecating humor wasn't always funny to strangers. Getting around to my hobbies, he lit up, and we comfortably steered the conversation on him when I pointed at the Yoshi key chain on his bag. DeShawn gushed about his daughter fondly. Our conversation led to him putting down his computer bag to show her social media and how he and his wife help her sometimes with her cosplay.

Eventually, DeShawn checked his watch and got his day started. Those ten minutes of talking flew by fast, but it cheered me out of a dark space for a moment. He ended up being the only conversation I'd have all morning. Meetings constrained the schedules of Renee and Chris all morning.

Before I knew it, the afternoon sun beat down on the Business District to thaw frozen corporate zombies trekking to food trucks or restaurants. I excluded myself from the undead–stuck inside with no windows and a steady temperature of sixty-five degrees.

Begrudgingly, I glanced at the time and dismissed the reminder notification flashing at the bottom of the screen. Time to go, I guess. My anxiety triggered a sniff check. Thankfully, my armpits remained in good shape after switching back to my tried-and-true deodorant brand.

All the offices on the way to Mr. Leoné's were empty, just as they were the day before. Thinking about it, I didn't see Willoughby in the office after the meeting. Either way, the emptiness amped up the creepiness of the chief management, and I hated it.