Tavell Ruskin had never really liked people. Especially not the people he knew he was supposed to like, such as his parents, and his daughter. He much preferred working.

Maybe this reaction was a defense mechanism, a way of coping in a world full of sharks who would tear your head off at any second, and only spoke one language: business. Perhaps, his desperate need to succeed had lead to him emulating those powerful figures, and switching off all relationships with people-- they would only be a distraction. Or maybe he just genuinely hated human interaction. His mother had never been able to figure it out, and Tavell never tried.

She had never taken his bitterness to heart, his mother, and tried to help him in every way she could, including raising his daughter for him. Wondering how that daughter was doing, Tavell's mother sighed, leaning back in her armchair and continuing with her knitting. She didn't call her, although she could; she wanted to give his daughter her independence.

Tavell leaned back in his plush, black chair (safe for up to eight hours' use at a time) and sighed. John, the idiotic intern he had to put up with until at least the end of the week, couldn't even make a coffee with the right amount of sugar in it. He just hoped he knew how to use a calculator.

Next update: Sunday April 15th 2018