Iridescent | Wesley Johnson [completed]

What A Bad Day To Get Punched On

Song: Try by Colbie Caillat

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It's been exactly two weeks since that dreadful day. Two exhausting, horrible weeks.

You'd think that I'd get back into the routine of mindlessly working like I did before, but somehow it feels harder than ever to continue. It's like that spark of hope never really went away, like it lit a small part of me again and that it will take longer than I thought to give it all up once more, and maybe that's for the better. Maybe I shouldn't settle for the job I currently have. Maybe I should quit while I still have it and report that swine to the police before he can get the pleasure of firing me.

Work, however, was only part of the reason why these last weeks sucked so bad. It seems like something is missing. Or maybe like someone is missing. I haven't heard a word from Wes since he drove me back to my apartment, not since he promised we would talk again. It doesn't even make me mad. I feel a little stupid maybe, how I ever believed that it meant something more than just a kind man meeting a fan of his and hanging out for a while. We aren't friends and we never were. I didn't get the job and there's not more to it than that. I said it myself in the interview, if I don't get the job, I wasn't the right person because I really did my best.

Though I'm trying to be cool about it, I can't deny the fact that I haven't watched a Smosh video since I got the answer and it stung particularly much when a video buzzed into my sub feed titled 'THE NEW SMOSHER IS HERE'. I am basically trying to erase the fact that anything ever happened at all from my mind, for the sake of my own sanity.

Someone crashes into me and their portfolio falls to the ground, spilling out the papers in it.

"Sorry." I mumble and scatter to help them pick up the documents. Luckily, they landed on the welcome mat of a cosmetics store, avoiding the morning mist wetting the ground. I scurry on, straightening my too tight skirt down again. I lost my day off today. Well, I volunteered to work an extra day for a ridiculously low overtime pay, just to get my mind off things.

Work is empty when I walk into the office. Well, not empty of course, just a lot of my regular work mates missing, and I assume that it's because they have their day off too. My neighbour though, Spencer I believe his name was, is here. He looks bored and throws a gaze over his shoulder when I walk in, only to turn around again as if to make sure that he saw right. His eye contact makes me slightly uncomfortable, not because it's creepy or anything, just very fixed on me. I hate it when people look at me for too long, I feel like they are just pointing out my every flaw inside of their heads. I sink down in my chair, sending a hesitant smile towards Spencer, his golden locks covering the parts of the blue in his right eye.

"Do I have anything on my face?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows when he doesn't answer. He just sits there for a second, sorrily smiling.

"Sadness." He mumbles, catching me off guard. Why did he notice and why does he care? I don't mean to come off rude but we are practically strangers to one another.

"What?"

"Nevermind. I just didn't expect to see you here today, you haven't come in on a thursday since we used to talk by the coffee machine, and that was a long time ago. Did you get your shifts changed?"

He remembers that? A quirky guy like Spencer who's friends with everyone remembers talking to the girl who has hardly said a single word to him in almost a year.