It’s tragic. Very, very tragic.
Which means I’m the only bright spot in her entire world, so it’s my job to remain a positive influence.
Today, 11:00 a.m.
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: RE: Unsolicited anime recommendation
Hey, boss:
Are you dead?
Concerned,
August
Virtual Assistant (who also does wellness checks at no extra cost, what a stellar employee, give her a raise)
If she doesn’t reply by noon, I’m working my way through the corporation until I find someone with her personal phone number, then I’m using the area code, her full name, and an online phonebook to locate her address, then I’m arriving on her doorstep…withI Was Reincarnated as the 7th Prince so I Can Take My Time Perfecting My Magic Abilityloaded up on my CrunchyRoll.
She’ll open the door.
I’ll hit play.
She’ll call security.
I’ll turn up the volume as the sirens close in.
Heh.
What a positively hilarious way to become both fired and receive my first restraining order.
All things considered, I probably shouldn’t do anything that might get me fired, though. It’s actually such a shame how attached I am to the financial security trope I have going on as Ali’s employee.
Like with most things, money is the root of all problems.
Alas, alas.
As the clock crawls forward with no response, I lose some of my humor.
It’s midday on a Friday. If it were really late, I’d be able to convince myself that Ali Workaholic McGee went to bed early for once in her life. But it’s not late. It’s not early. It’s almost lunch break, which has never stopped her from replying before. This is odd. Uncomfortable. A break in the pattern we’ve held for three solid years. Come rain, or shine, or weekend, or holiday, Ali replies promptly and sarcastically.
It’s a law of nature.
Which makes this unnatural.
I find myself staring at my inbox, willing proof of life to appear while my gaze perpetually trails toward the chat function. I’ve never used it before. I figured being a menace in the inbox of a woman who is neurotic about her work was enough villainy…but…
It hits noon.
I click.
I type.
I press enter.
