Wild World Comms

Chapter 5: Obsession, It Takes Control

It took two minutes for Dan to pop back into your head. God, it was like an obsession. You couldn't shake him from your mind; his warm smile, the fact that he could have possibly been as awkward as you were, the hair, and the converse.

But what struck you the most was the reaction that Will had to seeing the quiffy haired stranger. He said that he looked familiar... but it seemed implausible that a simple familiarity could evoke such a strong reaction.

You go to take another gulp of coffee to try to set your mind at ease, but realise that you have already finished the cup you literally made ten minutes ago. Sighing you contemplate how maybe the first obsession that you should deal with is your romance with coffee, but instead succumb, pulling yourself out of your chair and heading off towards the break room.

The break room was devoid of all people, which was not strange at all, as you might be the only person to ever have taken a break after thirty minutes of supposed work. You sift through the coffee pods until you find a mellow blend that wouldn't send your brain into overdrive. Putting it into the machine, you place your floral mug underneath, pressing the button that would start to brew the addictive brown liquid.

Waiting for the machine to do its work, your eyes wander over to the pile of newspapers sprawled out on the white oval table. There in amongst the classic publications was The Wild World (yes, they print physical copies. And you were sure that it was just another method of brainwashing fans of the old media), you cautiously pick it out, hoping that no-one would walk in and notice your tasteless choice in journalism.

Flicking through its pages you find the article that Dan had wrote, nestled in amongst the culture section, and your eyes instantly land on the picture of yourself. Long brown hair falling down your back, capturing your gaze over at the dinosaur bones suspended from the ceiling. For some reason his picture made you look incredibly sophisticated, not at all like you had just dragged yourself from the comfort of the sofa and Netflix.

You hear the familiar sound of the coffee machine finishing its brew and you postpone your reading to grab the drink. Stirring the mugs contents with a used teaspoon, you make your way back over to the table, pulling out one of the wooden stools to sit on. Thinking that you may as well make yourself comfortable, knowing that you weren't going to get any work done until you had read the damn article.

The headline read 'A Night at The Museum', you couldn't help but smirk at his unoriginality. But then again this was The Wild World, it's unlikely that they would ever appreciate a good headline. Although getting into the main body of the text you realised how talented he appeared to be with his words.

'Complimenting high culture with Jurassic history is a feat perhaps only the Natural History Museum could achieve; elegant outfits surrounded by the skeletons of those who once ruled this earth.'

Your eyes quickly dart through the text, until they fall upon the final sentence;

'The night created a mystery, an introduction to a beautiful exhibit. Though we'll have to wait until its doors officially open to fully understand the story of these misconceived giants'.

You read the ending again, and again, just to make sure that you had read that right. That your mind wasn't playing crazy tricks on you, because you had already drunk a shocking amount of coffee. Rereading his words, they sounded more and more like a ingenious metaphor to your evening. Him being the 'mystery' and a 'misconceived giant', and you, the 'beautiful exhibit' (Although you weren't so sure about being referred to an 'exhibit'). Your heart was shouting at your brain because what was right in front of you could be the evidence that proves that your first assumptions of the guy were right. That he was different. A fellow rebel against the cause.

Though your brain was as quick to destroy all fairy-tale hopes, as you remembered that his article was published in the goddamn Wild World. You find your hands carelessly throwing the paper shut, as your feet carry you out of the break room, until you're sat back at your desk, staring at the not at all clichéd screensaver of a randomly generic waterfall.

*sigh*

The sunlit streams of crystal clear blue water falling into the almost heart shaped pool below. The pool perhaps as deep as your hatred for WWCOMMS. The little splashes of water, showering down upon the pretty little flowers in the water; that have somehow not been destroyed by the pressure of the water above. The way that the leaves in the surrounding trees are so incredibly, verdantly green, covered in dew from the surrounding atmosphere...

Two thoughts come into your head;

1. Why the hell was this idyllic nightmare your screensaver?

2. SHIT, you really need to go to the loo.

Without a second thought you are marching over towards the toilet, leading you to pass Emily at her reception desk. Although you liked her, you felt as though your bladder would like you more if you got rid of all of the coffee you had stored in it. So, you kept your head down, hoping that she would be in the middle of a call, and not have the opportunity to ask you about your weekend.

You thought that you were in the clear once you had passed the plant pot holding a large sunflower in the reception area, but those hopes were shattered as you felt your shoulders naturally raise in annoyance as you heard your name being called out.

"Hi Emily," you replied trying not to think about the burning sensation in your bladder, smiling at your cheery co-worker, "How are you doing?"

"Yes, I'm great thank you. I don't want to keep you for long, I can see that you were on your way-", she eyed towards to toilets, to save you both the embarrassment of discussing the matter.

Your face naturally lit up into a warm smile, Emily can read people so easily. To be honest you didn't know why Oliver hadn't offered her a position in HR or sales, she would outperform most of the people in those departments.

"But this came for you this morning," you were confused eyeing up the brown box that she held in her hands. You curiously walked over to her desk, your mind completely forgetting about its desire to rush to the toilet, and Emily passed you the package.

"I don't know who it came from, but it looked interesting", your fingers traced along the lilac ribbon that held the parcel together, finding a little label tied to the bow. Flipping it over, there was a very simple message, about as minimalistic as the packaging itself- 'I'm sorry'.

"Who's it from?" Dan. It was from Dan. It had to be him. Your slightly panicked eyes, met Emily's inquisitive ones.

"It doesn't say." At least you didn't have to lie to her.

"Oh. Well I hope what's inside answers that question." She replied smiling at you, sensing that it had freaked you out.

"Yeah. Thanks Emily," you look up from the package to smile at her, "I'll see you later."

Although instead of walking towards the toilets, your feet instead decide to lead you in the direction of the staircase. And the next thing you know you are outside of your flat, putting the key into the lock.

You blink down in disbelief at your hand holding the key, wondering how the hell you had ended up here? What happened to the office, and the tube, and the walk from the station? Then the weight in your other hand explained everything. The goddamn 'I'm sorry' parcel. You push open the ash coloured door, ripping the key from the lock, and throwing it closed behind you. Marching down the hallway you enter the lounge and fall directly into the middle of the sofa, the parcel sitting firmly on top of your lap.

Groaning you roll your head backward onto the sofa, hitting its soft cushion, irritated that this parcel- no that Dan. That Dan had caused you to walk out of work without a second thought, so much so that you couldn't actually remember getting to your flat.

You struggled to understand why your brain was letting Dan become such a big deal. You didn't really even know the guy, and you were unsure if you were in the position to call him an acquaintance either. But he had been the only thing you could think about for the past three days, and you were hoping that what was sat in your lap would explain everything.