Page 10 - Interior_SPRING SUMMER FALLING_2021

10 | FRANCESCA PE NN

never answered that question. “Excuse me,” Stu whines. I realize I zoned out as soon
as he started prattling. “Did you hear my question?”
“Sorry.” Not sorry. I hope my smile looks apologetic. “I got distracted by
something I was reading.”
Stu sighs, his balding head swiveled around the office taking in his surrounding

like it’s his first time there. He smirks as if he is the only smart guy in a room full of
engineers. I suppress a laugh when the sun partially blinds him through the
window. His stiff shirt crackles when he raises his left hand to shield his eyes. My
eyes catch the glint of the gold band on his finger. It always amazes me how the
most undesirable people manage to get married. Maybe his wife is just as uptight as
he; a match made in heaven.
“I said I need your portion of the project by 5 PM tomorrow. I can’t start my
part until you finish. I would like to actually spend time at home this weekend.” He
sniffs at me like I was beneath him. His nasal whine is a constant chaff in my ass.
“Stu, please name a time that I was so behind on my work that you had to work
on the weekend.” He sniffs again but doesn’t say anything. Some of the smugness
drains from his face. “That’s what I thought. Are we done with this interruption?”
Stu frowns but walks away without another word. Ass.

As soon as he rounds the corner, I start to shut down my station. I am done
pretending for the day. Well, at least at work, since Cassie is a different story. I hop
on the elevator since it will drop me off directly in front of the café. Most of the
lazy ass people in the building cried like babies and made such a fuss that
maintenance had the elevator fixed a little after lunch. God forbid if these office
workers had to do some sort of exercise. It is bittersweet having a working elevator
again. I am happy for the people that need it, yet bummed about not being able to
catch Sanya on the stairs again. Her light-hearted banter is random and refreshing.
Each ping of the stainless-steel elevator panel is my personal countdown to my
mystery meeting. I’ve spent more time than necessary trying to figure out what she
wants to discuss. She’s already ruled out work and she was perfectly clear that this
is not any sort of a date. The best plausible reason I can muster is French lessons. I
quickly toss that idea in the trash. Her cute little face twisted in confusion when I
switched languages. She didn’t know I spoke French until I opened my mouth.
By lunch, I’d created a scenario that would rival any espionage novel. I
imagined her to be an agent from an ultra-secret organization that constantly saves