The very tired, and very irritated Stanford Reign was ready to take the rest of the day off after his disastrous meeting that took place earlier with the board of directors.
There was nothing left for him to think about, but a lot left for him to decide.
He was relaxing within his own solitude in the warm, pitch darkness of his executive office. Stanford was sitting in the black leather swivel chair that was behind his large cherry-wood desk. There were important documents sprawled over its surface, papers with classified information that was now disorganized and crumpled.
It was unlike him to drink before noon, and it was also unlike him to drink his liquor straight from the bottle.
Well, it was noon, and his fingers were curled tightly around the neck of the scotch bottle while the bottom of it was lightly pressed on the top of his thigh.
He raised the scotch to his lips and took a drink from it before lowering it back down into its previous position.
Moments passed by through dragged on minutes, and his mind was preoccupied with the notion of over analyzing everything.
Stanford's mind was tangled in satin black ribbons, his thoughts running laps but still unable to escape the intricate pattern of the tangles.
Suddenly, without warning or a call from his secretary, the large double doors to his office opened.
The dark office was abruptly flooded with light and with noise from the workspace outside of his office.
There was a brief moment amidst his disorientation where his eyes had begun to feel themselves burn and he couldn't think about anything other than his vision.
The door had closed and everything was dark again.
He didn't bother to ask who it was who came in, all he knew is that he had specifically instructed his secretary that no one was allowed to disturb him for the rest of the day.
"Why is it so dark in here?"
The corners of his lips immediately turned themselves upright when the sound of Nina's voice traveled in the dark.
"I can't even see the fucking light switch." She rashly stated but her voice remained kind and playful, in desperation, she began to lightly pat the paneled wall behind her in search for the light switches.
"I uninstalled the switches," Stanford called out to her with a hefty sigh that followed the brief statement.
"Lights on."
The clarity in his voice had triggered the recessive lights embedded in the ceiling to turn up as bright as they could.
Stanford was right about the expression Nina was giving him.
A frown was tugging downwards at her lips when she noticed the drink he held securely in his hand.
He smiled at her, putting his bottle on the surface of the desk before standing up from the chair.
Nina scoffed, she had already pulled an arm out of the beige, crinoline fabric sleeve of the Maison Margiela trench coat she was wearing.
YOU ARE READING
STARGIRL
General Fiction"Her lips are like the galaxy's edge, and her kiss the colour of a constellation falling into place" (AM). - Every time he looked at her, he could feel his heart breaking. She was the girl with the gleam in her eyes plucked from the stars themselve...
