K. Webster

“You are terrifying and strange and beautiful, something not everyone knows how to love.”

Warsan Shire

I flip over to the recording from last night. Around nine in the evening, the lights turn on, and then a woman in a light blue uniform walks in, dragging a cart with her. She starts to clean, but then sets her cloth down on my desk before sitting in my chair. I watch, disgusted, as she spins around in my chair enough times it makes me dizzy. Finally, she stops and then pulls a red, square, wrapped candy from her pocket.
I’ve caught the culprit.
Now I’m going to make her pay.
She unwraps it and then tosses the wrapper into the trash can. My anger rachets up when she stands and walks over to my bookshelves. Her finger runs along the shelves, and she then holds a finger up in front of her face as though she’s inspecting it for dust. She admires my painting for a bit before returning to my chair. The woman—no, girl based on her young features—continues to eat her candies one at a time. She kicks her feet up on my desk and proceeds to scroll through her phone. This goes on for at least a half-hour. I fast forward through this part. Finally, she pockets her phone and then plays with my desk buttons making it go up and down a few times. Eventually she stands, steps on one of the wrappers she missed tossing into the bin and walks it over to where I stepped on it. It transfers to the floor at that point. She shakes her head as though she’s angry about whatever she’s thinking about, and then walks right up to the glass. Once she’s done gazing at my fucking city, she walks past the wrapper she managed to stick to my floor, grabs her rag off the desk, and then pushes her cart from the room.
Un-fucking-believable.
As soon as the lights go off on the video, I shut it down, ready to explode with fury. It takes several calming

Ping.
I open my email, eager as fuck to find what Deborah has uncovered for me.
Ash Ember Elliott.
Brand new employee at FGM Services.
Someone let this highly unqualified woman into my office. They’re all going down for this. It’s such gross negligence, I can barely see straight because of my rage.
I could go straight to the top and let the manager fire all those directly responsible for this outrage, or I could take matters into my own hands. Punish the offender directly. I quite enjoy a good verbal reaming.
Tonight, I’ll deal with Miss Elliott.
She played in my office like a child, wrecked it with her mess, and took wages for a job she didn’t do.
I’ve ended men for less, with a fucking grin on my face, too.
I will absolutely enjoy destroying her.
In fact, I’ll be counting down every second until her arrival.