A passion for work

Excuses

"You should probably know something before we go through with this. I'm autistic." The girl in front of Tatum looks at her with big eyes. "But you don't look autistic!" "No way, you're lying!" "Then how are you understanding what I'm saying?" "Does that mean you lack empathy?" "What does autistic mean?" "But you're a girl!" "But you're gay!" "That's kind of hot!" Tatum had heard them all. This time it was a classic "I just realized I have work tomorrow, so I better leave." Sometimes she wondered if she should just not tell them. But she knew that if something went wrong, or if she became anxious or overwhelmed by her senses, she needed to have an explanation ready. A reason for why she acted wierdly.

She sighed, took the last sip of her drink and left a bill on the bar countertop. She went outside and stood right outside the door for a while, doing nothing but freezing. Then she called a cab to take her home, alone, once again without a woman by her side. Tatum paid the driver and got in her apartment. Clean and somewhat spacial, her apartment was a collection of carefully picked pieces of furniture with a spectacular view. She felt very lucky to live here. She dropped her bag on the floor and made her way to her bedroom, starting to feel exhausted. She threw her clothes all over her room, and then collapsed in bed.

She didn't want to sleep, because that meant tomorrow would arrive in no time, and tomorrow she had to work. She loved her job, and was lucky to have an understanding boss, but going drinking on a Wednesday wasn't her best idea. It had taken all of her energy away, from the crowds to the pounding music and socialization, she was beat. Her eyes began closing and soon she was fast asleep.

Tatum was woken by her beeping alarm clock, 6:30 a.m. She fumbled in her newly woken state and managed to turn it off. Laying in bed, feeling the sun peek through her blinds, she wasn't excited about starting the day. The word "work" kept going through her brain on repeat. Work. Work. Work. It didn't help her state of mind. Exhausted, she literally rolled out of bed and laid on the floor for a while, feeling the cold against her body. She reached up and grabbed her phone from her bedside table. Checking her instagram was enough of a distraction for Tatum to be able to get up.

She couldn't be bothered to shower, knowing how much energy it would waste, so instead she just put on the clothes already laid out on the dresser. A plain blue button up shirt and a pair of jeans, cuffed of course. Given the summer weather, that was all she needed. She opened her blinds, which her therapist said was a "good habit". Tatum put on her shoes, grabbed her already packed bag and left her apartment. Because she was having a bad day she was treating herself to going out for breakfeast, another "good habit".

Sitting in a corner at her favourite café, munching on a scone and watching people pass the window was one of her favourite things to do. It put her in a better mood. Ready to head to work, she drank the last of her hot cocoa and left her seat. After walking for maybe three minutes, she entered the building of her place of work for the past two years: A&B's law firm. A rather prestigeous company in a rather large city was not exactly where Tatum had seen herself working when she was younger. But she loved helping to get justice, even if it was a rare occurance, it all felt worth it to her. And that's all that matters.

Going up the elevator to floor 32, she yawned loudly. Luckily she was the only one in there. She made it all the way up, greeted her colleagues as she walked through the office landscape to find her own little space. Tucked away in a corner, as per request, her piece of this office was her home away from home. She had a special-ordered chair, a custom mug that she only ever drank hot cocoa out of, and a neat row of fake succulents in tiny pots. She sat down, put away her bag and got to work on her usual routine: assembling files for her boss.

Tatum mostly did work for her boss, a man in his sixties who could only be described as the best boss ever. He understood her autism, in fact he had multiple autistic employees, and would let her take breaks if she got overwhelmed. But before she could collect her things and get to his office, her boss, Mr Abraham, walked up to her. "Tatum!" He exclaimed with his scrowly deep voice. He sounded not happy nor upset, just like usual.

"Good morning sir!" Tatum smiled at him. "I would like to see you in my office." He said, looking at her. She immediately got a lump in her throat and a billion different scenarios started going through her head. Mr Abraham saw the look on her face and said "Don't worry. It's good news." Tatum felt a significant sting of relief. "I guess." She heard him mumble as he walked towards his office, and she was instantly on her tiptoes again. She quickly gathered her things and followed him, nervous. When they got to his office, Tatum quickly noticed they weren't alone.

Sitting elegantly on his desk, legs crossed, was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She was probably in her early forties, but it was a good look on her. She had perfectly smooth, glowing pale skin. Her face was like a dream, perfectly symmetrical with gorgeous full lips and narrow deep brown eyes. Shiny blonde hair was flowing in cascades down her shoulders, and she was wearing a tight dress that seemed way too fancy to belong in this office. It showed off her beautifully feminine body. God she was sexy... What the hell was she thinking?! Be professional Tatum! She yelled at herself in her head. She blinked and realized she had been in her head for way too long, now awkwardly standing there in front of her boss and this angel with no explanation. Mr Abraham cleared his throat: "So Tatum, meet your new boss!"