Tales of a Writer

Chapter Six

Louis sat at his desk typing furiously and listening to his coworkers chatter. He reached for his mug without looking up from his computer and placed the light ceramic cup to his lips. He was very unhappy to discover that the mug was empty. 

"Marcel? Marcel!" he yelled, still not looking up from his computer. Grimmy, at that time, walked out of the break room and heard Louis' call for the endearingly dorky intern.

"I hate to inform you that your boy toy isn't here. Did you not notice the lack of crashes around  the office?" Grimmy spoke as he passed Louis' desk. Louis furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when he realized that he'd been so absorbed in his writing that he hadn't noticed Marcel was not at work. Grimmy continued to his desk while Louis shrugged his shoulders and returned to typing away loudly with a lingering strange feeling.

---

The next day arrived and Louis was back at it, sitting there at his desk again with an empty cup. 

"Is Marcel gone again today?" Louis asked Eleanor as she walked by his desk. 

"No, he's here," she assured him, nodding. Louis raised an eyebrow in surprise, and he watched as she walked away, staring at the same sport where she was standing, confusedly. Again he shrugged his shoulders and returned to typing away loudly with a lingering strange feeling. 

Soon enough he heard a loud crash emit from the break room, and he felt a smile creep onto his face. He pushed himself up off the chair and made his way to where the crash sounded. He found Marcel scrambling to pick up miscellaneous relaxing devices. 

"How'd you manage to knock those over?" Louis asked chuckling as he helped Marcel pick up various silk ribbons and water calming toys. Louis looked over at Marcel when he didn't respond.

"Marcel?" Louis asked confusedly. Marcel blushed and smiled nervously. 

"S-sorry, ahem, I was, uh-uhm-" he placed the devices on the small table next to the spinning chair. 

"I gotta go," he mumbled. 

"Marcel?" he asked as the intern walked as fast as he could out of the room. He picked up the stress ball and tossed into the swivel chair with it's hood left up.  

"What the hell?" he muttered.

---

"What you got Tomlinson?" Eleanor asked. 

"Sorry, ma'am. What were you saying?" Louis asked looking up from his computer. 

"You been working on the same thing since Sunday. It's Wednesday. Can I see it?" Eleanor asked sitting down on Louis' desk. Louis cleared his throat and shifted his computer slightly. He blew his breath out and widened his eyes. 

"Uh, uh yeah sure. I mean, yeah, I-I guess," he stuttered, nervously tapping his fingers on the desk. 

"Alright, forward it to me. I'll read it when I get to it, alright?" she told him. Louis nodded and started typing away as his editor walked off, swaying her hips slightly and unconsciously as she did. 

"Bloody hell," he sighed. 

Eleanor emailed him about an hour later.

From: Eleanor Calder

Nice job. Research is extensive. I'm impressed. I want this piece in our issue this week. Send me the final draft so I can okay it.

To: Eleanor Calder

Thank you, ma'am. I will work on the final draft right now. Let me know if you have an revisions. 

Thanks again,