Chapter Text
It is around five-thirty in the morning when I clock into my shift. This morning is methodical in every aspect; the growl of my car’s engine, rhythmic steps toward my office, the sound of my belongings landing on my desk oh so noisily. Too early, I think. As soon as I sit down, I drag my hands down my face with a groan.
I do not want to work today. I turn my monitor on anyway. I slide my mouse and grimace as the screen lights, threatening to blind me any further. I open my inbox and face a flood of emails and messages.
I get through answering one. Then three. Five, six.
I am halfway through my eighth email before my office door handle turns.
I hear her voice, and I am beside myself for relaxing as she graces my ears. Truly, I would stop it if I could, but I cannot.
She clears her throat. “Doctor Liles? I apologize for interrupting. I have documents for you to,” she pauses and swallows, “to review.”
I try to regulate my voice. It comes out softer than I mean.
“Thank you, Candidate Hammock. No worries, go ahead and leave them here for me,” I reply as I brush my hand over probably the only clear area of my workspace. Right. Great impression. She walks over to set the stack of papers down and happens to hear the one breath I let out too heavily.
She peers over with slight concern and before she can speak, I answer.
“Long night. I was up later than I should have been working on projects that also should have been left for another time,” I breathe out the smallest laugh as I look up at her, “Don’t tell anyone that. Nobody knows about my horrific time management quite yet.”
It pains me to relish the laugh she returns.
“Yet?” The way she leans onto my desk nearly sends me.
I let out a looser laugh. “My name doesn’t circulate enough for people to uncover my secrets.” I lean back in my chair and continue to peer at her. “Careful,” I start and smile, “If it gets out, I know whose fault it is.”
She laughs again. “Sure. Very, very fear-inducing.” I raise an eyebrow but do not speak. She gets impossibly more smug. “Get these done and you’re safe.” She taps the documents once as she turns.
“Right.” I reply.
She looks back as she reaches the door. I have not stopped looking. Our eyes meet and hers soften, and in that moment I realize how compromised I am, and it is this woman’s fault.
“Survive today. The department needs you.”
I give her a nod as she walks through the door. “You too,” I say before she is out of earshot.
I look at the documents, then my reflection in my dimmed monitor. I am a wreck. I sigh as I grab the stack and stare at it. I would call the look deadpan if deadpan described how I felt. It does not. I am too internally giddy for my big age. My heart is beating a tad too fast for a conversation between coworkers.
I swallow once as my pen starts skimming the words on these pages, yet the words are barely absorbed. I let myself settle. This morning is no longer as methodical, now filled with rattling door handles and stacks of documents and pretty coworkers leaning on your desk, laughing at your stupid jokes and remaining dastardly smug.