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Dear Mr. Luge (aka Scrooge),
I’m writing this letter to let you know I quit. I quit so bad. I’ve taken a new position with your biggest competition, Pulse Gaming.
Finally, I’ve got a job as a marketing executive and I will no longer be your lowly assistant who is tasked with fetching your coffee or whatever you deem necessary, but is truly ridiculous.
Sure, you’re some big computer genius who invented this new gaming technology and everyone falls at your feet, but not me.
Oh no, not me.
I’m no longer the girl you’ll call at all hours of the night to belittle and degrade.
And yes, I’m so grateful that you played along as my boyfriend when my mother ambushed us that one night.
My family loved you as you performed the part of the perfect boyfriend to a T. Oscar-worthy. However, I know the truth.
You may be one of the most gorgeous men on the planet, and smartest. You may have this beard that puts all other beards to shame. And the prettiest eyes that sparkle when you walk into a room.
But I’m not fooled.
I know the real you.
The one who’s not pretending to care about me. Even when you kiss me and it feels so stinkin’ real. Even when you hold my hand and sparks zap all through me.
No, I know the real you.
And I’m outta here.
Sincerely,
January Frost, your ex-assistant.
