The spoon tinkled against the ceramic mug. Deep brown liquid slowly swirled and merged to become beige. A cartoon owl with enormous eyes and a furrowed brown stared back. On the other side of the mug, the words I’m Watching You made her shudder. How kind of her father to insist she used his birthday gift at work.
She replaced the milk in the fridge, tapping the door with her hip to close it. Leaning back against the kitchen counter that ran along one wall of the staff room, she sipped her tea. Steaming liquid slid down her throat and sloshed in her empty stomach. Damn, she’d not had time to have lunch again.
The staff room rocked the beige look. Two small round tables sat before her. Various stains marred the Formica tabletops and chips along the edges revealed the cheap plywood beneath. In the far corner, the sunken cushions of the pale brown couch only added to the weary atmosphere. Above it hung plastic Venetian blinds, some with bent slats, which revealed tiny slithers of the office beyond.
She inhaled and her stomach revolted at the scent of stale coffee, mixed with whatever foul emanations remained from someone’s fetid lunch. The management hadn’t spent a penny on the staff room since… the late 1980s by the look of it. She should bring it up at the next meeting, but would likely be ignored again. No wonder people hated working here.
Why did she stay? The family-run business had cost her ten years of her life and a marriage.
The door opened, and Keeley—the new apprentice receptionist—froze when she caught sight of her. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in here.” She turned to leave.
“Wait, this is the staff room. There’s no need for you to go.”
“Oh.” The fresh-faced girl swallowed. “I just wanted to have a quick drink.”
She stepped aside. The lino held onto the soles of her shoes, but finally gave way with an icky, sticky, peeling sound. Did the cleaner never mop the floor in here?
Keeley stretched up and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. The girl’s hand trembled as she held the vessel beneath the tap—barely allowing it time to fill half-way—then downed the contents.
“Thanks.” The girl offered her a brittle smile before she scurried back into the office.
The monotonous drone of voices and the click-clack of keyboards dulled when the door closed.
She cradled her mug against her chest. The warmth did nothing to soothe the cold dread within her.
Year after year, the monotony, office politics and gossip sucked away her self-esteem. The boss may live and breathe his company, but the rest of them were here because they had to be. Perhaps morale wouldn’t be so bad if he paid them a decent wage and provided a break room that didn’t smell like mildew and sour milk.
Her chin dropped to her chest, and her lashes lowered. Did she have to go back out there? Her insides withered, and every limb became heavy, as though it was being pulled down towards the sticky lino floor.
What would she give to feel alive again, to open her eyes on a morning and not feel like the day loomed ahead like an endless road that led to nowhere?
She downed the rest of her brew and rinsed out the mug before placing it in the dishwasher. Hopefully, it would get broken, and she’d never have to see the tactless gift again.
Her desk and sky-high workload beckoned. It wouldn’t do to be caught slacking. She had to work twice as hard as everyone here just to prove she deserved her position—a position she never wanted but was never offered a choice.
The door flew open again, and she spun on her heel.
Her assistant, Jennifer, held open the door. “What are you doing in here?”
“I don’t know. I just wanted a break from the prison of my office.”
“You’re scaring the staff.”
“I thought I’d try to mix a bit.”
Jennifer raised a sardonic brow. “Your father wants to see you in his office immediately.”
She blew out a breath, then forced a smile. “Better not keep the boss waiting.”
