Take The Chance (A Limitless Novel) [Book 1]

One

"Matilda, Mr Becker wants a word with you," Rachel, my boss, Mr Becker's, secretary leaned over the small divider that sectioned my office off from the rest of my co-workers offices.

I felt my stomach sink, knowing what this was about but hoping and praying I wasn't right. I nodded my head, not trusting my voice at all. I looked at my computer, quickly closing everything I was working on before slowly standing. I pulled down my white button up shirt, before tugging on my grey pencil skirt as well. I had been sitting at my desk for five hours straight, trying to work harder than I'd ever worked before. I walked out of the small cubical that was my office, before following Rachel to Mr Becker's office. I looked over to Gretel, the only girl I'd formed some kind of friendship with since working for this company for two years.

I'd been fresh out of college two years ago when I'd landed this job, I'd taken it because I knew my degree in photography wouldn't pay my rent straight away. This was meant to be a temporary job, working for a law firm in the filing division was not my dream job. My dream job was to be a photographer, and a great one at that. But my dream came with conditions, landing a job that actually paid well was extremely hard and I was already in debt enough as it was to start my own business. So I'd ended up staying here longer then planned, which annoyed me but satisfied my parents. They saw this as a real job and photography as a hobby.

Gretel gave me a sad shrug; we both know the outcome of this office visit. My eyes moved across the large amount of empty desks around the room. Nearly fifty desks out of the hundred or so were completely empty, void of anything other than a computer and blank dividing walls. A knot in my stomach told me that this was not good, not at all.

Rachel opened the door to Mr Becker's office, urging me in before she closed the door behind me. George's office stank of cigars, his shades drawn to keep out the sunlight and a lamp on behind him amongst large stacks of paper. He put his cigar into the clear glass ashtray, not even bothering to put it out.

He looked me over, putting my face to the name he had on his screen most likely. I was just that to him, another name on his computer screen amongst many other employees.

I'd never liked George Becker, what with his abnormally large nose, small and stumpy build and his constant smell of sweat and cigars lingering on him. His personality didn't add to his looks either. He was a grumpy, grouchy, mean man that everyone did their best to avoid. I'd managed to avoid him up until now.

"Matilda Greene, I think its best if I just cut to the chase," he gave me a smile, although it looked strained on his face.

I didn't bother trying to respond, knowing the only reply that would come from my mouth would be sarcastic or rude. I just wanted to get out of his office already.

He sighed, taking my silence as my response. "I'll need you to pack up your things and leave Matilda. It's been great working with you," he said, going back to sorting through the papers on his desk like it meant nothing. Which it didn't to him, he wasn't the one getting fired.

I turned on my heel, pulled the door open and headed back to my desk. I wasn't a pushover and I knew if I stayed any longer it would have ended in me yelling and screaming. One of us had to give.

As I walked back to my desk, a hand held out a cardboard box to my left as I passed by. I took it without giving whoever it was eye contact; I didn't want to loose it in front of these people. I was just another number to add to the growing number of employee's who had been canned in the past month. For everyone's sake in the office, I hoped I was the last.

I packed my things up quickly, glad I'd never cluttered the space with too many personal items. This was meant to be a temporary job.

I put a photo frame into the box, my box of paperclips, my dying fern that I'd been neglecting for months, my stapler, my hairbrush and deodorant from the bottom draw in my desk that I always kept at the ready, before putting my bag on top of everything.