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Published by Stroker Chase at Smashwordss

Copyright 2012 by Stroker Chase


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I fixed my hair as the elevator stopped on my floor. As the doors opened, I brushed my hands to my sides, confident that I looked presentable.

I was dressed in a long button down, a modern grey blazer, and tight, black dress pants. I was normally dressed in something similar, but today my boss warned me that there was an important figurehead in the company arriving, so we all needed to dress more formal.

I teased my hair that morning, hoping that would suffice. As I approached my desk, I noticed my coworkers didn’t go all out either. Our dress code was already formal. What else could we do? Drop to our knees, offer our superiors wine and grapes to eat out of our hands?

I wheeled my chair over to my familiar spot, in front of the computer, and began familiar cases. Everything ran like clockwork. I didn’t even have to think about what I typed. All muscle memory.

I was at Grailtech for five years. The same position. Same motivation. Hardly any raises, yet it didn’t stop me from working just as hard. It was natural. I didn’t like to make mistakes, and in my entire time there, I made none.

No one seemed to notice. I got a pat on the back a couple of times, but other than the “keep up the good work,” not much else happened.

Until that day.

My boss scurried from his office. A nervous wreck, he wrangled his hair through his fingers, racing across the cubicles to the elevator. As he waited in front of the steel doors for the elevator to rin, he fixed his hair in the reflection.

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