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I reminded myself of this whenever I started thinking about all the ways Connor would come crawling desperately back. The amazing speeches he would give. The grand romantic gestures he’d make. The reuniting kisses. I had to force myself to stop, remember it was just my brain messing with me.

I know that little fact about how your brain handles rejection because I work as a researcher for Take Films, a documentary company. I get to uncover interesting stories and purely random facts that prove just how weird and wonderful our little world is. I love the work, but every job has its drawbacks. This kind of environment brings in all kinds of people. Some are cool nerds with incredible passion, and some are just flat-out crazy.

My boss, Sarah Fleming, is an example of the latter. She is incredibly pretentious: she can’t give an assignment without describing in vivid detail every possible metaphor and artistic interpretation. She also has a tendency to stand too close and engage in physical contact for awkwardly long durations.

I walked into her office, where she sat fiddling with her fountain pen at her desk. Sarah always seemed to work hard at constantly sounding intellectual and appearing elegant and poised. She put down the pen, adjusted the pale yellow silk scarf around her neck and smoothed down a few strands of light grey hair that were escaping from her otherwise neat, high bun.

She had called me in about Ireland and bananas. We were doing a documentary called Not all the Oil in Your Food is Fat, about how much crude oil is used in the food production process.

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