She breezed right into work. The tension crackled in the air. When she got to her seat, there was a note in it. I hate it when people put notes on your damn chair, she thought. Next thing she knew she was in her boss' office. Drone, drone, drone. All of sudden a voice that sounded like hers spoke up. She heard it say that today was her last day. Her boss rose to protest. But as her mind processed the words, she felt her hand gesture him to stop. Today was her last day. Notice, schotice. If she hurried, she could be sipping cafe au lait within the hour...
Author's break: I don't know how this is going to work without a workplace. I had all these Hawthorne-like references to Bartleby the Scrivener in mind. But now, no little nitwit can make the case that I'm writing about work. Satisfied?
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