I know what some people in the office think of me. Every time I see James he gives me this look that says he thinks I'm a kiss-ass wanker and he wants to shove my head in the toilet.

It is possible the shoving the head in the toilet bit is just my own imagination. But it is a familiar look, one that I saw all through school, right on through college. And it usually preceeded having my head shoved in a toilet or something similar.

I let out a sigh, looking around my office. It is so plain. Boring, really. No personality. No plants, because I would forget to water it and I hardly think it is Jenny's job to water my plant, even if she is a little over-enthusiastic about them. No photos, because there isn't really anyone to have a photo of.

Sure, I've gone out a couple times with Stacey, but I know it is just because she is trying to make her ex-boyfriend jealous and I was the easiest of the lot. She's so fake, anyway. Every time she gets close to me I am well aware that much of her... ah... physique was surgically enhanced. They just don't move or feel like the real thing, and what fun is that?

I suppose I could bring in some toys or posters or something, but all I have are things that belong in a college dorm. Nothing sophisticated, nothing that says I am going somewhere. And I am. I will be.

This job is a fantastic starting point for me. Rory, the manager, is a decent enough guy, although a little narrow-minded. But I'll work on that. But for the moment I have to tow his line, get him to trust me.

I can almost see James mouthing "suck-up" in that juvenile way boys have. Not that James is a boy. He's a little too old for that moniker. Though sometimes he does give that impression. If he tried just a little harder on his appearance maybe he would have been promoted. And last week when he looked so awful? I was sure something had happened with his wife, if he has one, but I knew better than to ask. No wedding band, but that doesn't mean much. Not these days.

Looking up, I see a woman standing at the reception desk and I can't help but shrink down in my chair. Megan. Not her. Dear lord, not her. She can't get a job here. I'd never have any peace!

I swear the girl stalks me. Just because we had a drink that one time when we met at that club. At first it was fun talking to her occasionally, having her ring up to get coffee. But it started getting a bit... intense. Like she was planning a wedding or something in the back of her head.

No, if there was anyone I was thinking of that with it was that woman in the elevator. I usually didn't see her - I admit, I'm usually far earlier than I should be to the office - as she was usually running a bit late. But today I had been too. There was something different today, and not just the flower. It was this big thing, a bright red, no idea what kind though. As I said, not big on plants. But she just looked so alive.

But I always thought so.

Maybe I should try to get her number. At least get her name. Say something to her.

Which reminds me that I really need to buy some sheets for the bed. And take down a few posters. I don't think a woman like that would go in for comicbook characters, no matter how trendy or mainstream they've become. The one girl I'd brought back to my apartment a few months back had started laughing, saying she couldn't take me seriously. I had tried to explain that it was ironic, but somehow she just thought I was a nerd.

Of course, I am a nerd. But I'm intelligent and driven. Maybe a bit socially awkward, but I blame it all on still trying to wear the shine off. It's hard to appear relaxed and suave and sophisticated when you are still trying to make sure they don't come to their senses and fire you.

The End

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