ZED typed furiously at his keyboard, trying to make the impossible deadline set for him by his employer. As his fingers flew, dozens of choice words came to mind, not one of which was suitable for the workplace. When the source of his current frustration came barrelling down the hallway, however, they scattered on the breeze.

'I'm not here!' MacIntire shot over his shoulder as he made a mad dash for his office. And, with a slam of his office door, it was as if his words had come true. With the inaudible sigh that he reserved for his employer alone, Zed rolled his eyes, adjusted his glasses, and continued his work.

Not a few moments later, an impeccably dressed woman followed the same path down the hall, though in a very different manner. She did not merely walk, she floated. Zed was certain he had never been in the presence of such grace. Her long coat fluttered behind her, accented perfectly by a soft bun of lightly greying blonde hair. She had cheekbones that could cut glass and an air of royalty that rivalled Her Majesty. With a voice like silk, the apparition spoke. 'Is Mr MacIntire in?'

It took a few moments for Zed to find his voice. His fingers had frozen above the keys in mid-sentence, completely entranced by the swan of a woman before him. 'He's— he's not in, no. Haven't seen him all day.'

The woman raised one eyebrow, humming in disbelief. 'You really expect me to believe that the workaholic isn't here?'

In that moment, Zed couldn’t help but liken himself to an ant under a magnifying glass; visible from all angles and easily crushed. A deep, steadying breath was meant to help his acting, but only served to quicken his heart rate. 'You're welcome to check the office, if you wish. If you find him, let me know.' Then, he let his guard slip, ever so slightly, lowering his voice. 'I'd like to give him a piece of my mind.'

With a devilish grin, the beautiful panther pounced. Zed felt his breath hitch as she placed her elbows on the desk, cradling her face in her hands. 'Let me guess; you're in your, what— early thirties?'

'I just turned thirty, yes.'

She hummed, smirking all the while. 'It must really miff you that Augustus is only four years your senior, and still, you work for him, huh?' It wasn’t until that moment that Zed realised how far he had fallen into the stranger’s trap. She wasn’t looking for an answer because she already knew it. She continued in a droll tone. 'Same opportunities, same schooling, same career goals— and yet... Here you sit, working your fingers to the bone for a crappy flat somewhere in… I’m guessing Greenwich, barely getting by, while you order him King Crab and caviar for lunch.'

If you lie, she'll know he's here. But if you tell the truth… Zed’s mouth went dry at the thought of what was to come. However, he knew what he had to do. Mustering all the annoyance that he had shoved down for the previous eight months, he sighed loudly. 'No. We did not have the same opportunities. I wouldn't have been able to afford the schools he went to if I'd sold both my kidneys and my sister. And sure, if I'd had a silver spoon shoved up my arse, too, yeah maybe the roles would be reversed. But I'd also be an egotistical, self-involved prick, just like he is, and I'm quite happy with the way that I am, thank you. Besides, I'm allergic to shellfish.'

The woman purred with satisfaction as she rose from the desk, setting him with a bemused gaze. 'What's your name, son?'

'Zachary Higgins. Now, if you don't mind, I have quite a bit of work to be getting on with. You might have better luck looking in the tenth-floor gym. He thinks hiding in

The glass room with all the treadmills is clever.' Without another word, Zed resumed his work, trying not to let the blood pumping in his ears drown his thoughts.

With a grin, the woman turned to leave. 'Thank you, Mr Higgins. This has been most— enlightening.'

Zed offered a grunt of acknowledgement but kept his eyes glued to the computer screen. When she was finally behind the lift doors, the poor assistant slumped back into his chair, and let his heavy breathing get the better of him.

Suddenly, Mac poked his head out of the office, a sight that launched Zed’s heart into pounding double-time before his eyes had the chance to even process it. 'Is she gone?'

With one hand on his chest to steady his heart, Zed spoke. 'Yes. She's gone. She's looking for you in the gym.'

MacIntire grinned widely, placing a firm hand on Zed's shoulder. 'Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant performance! I almost believed I wasn't here! Just brilliant!'

'You’re not— angry?'

'Angry? No! Every other assistant I've had has instantly caved to my mother. But you—! Just brilliant!'

Zed felt as though he was choking on his own saliva. 'That— was your mother?!' Oh my god, I'm fired. I'm absolutely fired—

'Yes. She's been trying to get a hold of me for days. I forgot my father's birthday, again.'

'Oh,' Zed said, resisting a frown. 'Well, tell me when it is. I'll put it in the calendar so you won't forget next time.'

'I'm not entirely sure, but I think it might be the same as yours.'

Zed stopped dead, turning to meet him with an air of disbelief. 'You mean to tell me that you remembered the birthday of your assistant of less than a year over your own father's?'

'Yes, well, I wrote yours down, didn't I? Employee morale is very important in a place like this. Can't let the little guy feel downtrodden, can I?'

The irony of MacIntire’s words seemed to miss the man himself by a mile as he returned happily to his office. Zed, however, reminded himself to tell his friends about this moment over drinks that evening. They always enjoyed the absurdity that was his daily life.

ZED had endured his fair share of ridiculous circumstances in the few short months of his employment to Augustus MacIntire. Though as he rounded the corner to MacIntire’s childhood home, envelope in hand, he was certain that all prior situations paled in comparison to what he was about to do.

I'm not going to get involved with the promise he had made to himself earlier that day. The relationship that his employer had with his father was none of his business. Hell, it hardly seemed to be MacIntire’s own. But, somehow, it made perfect sense that a belated birthday card would fix everything. So, there he stood at 432 Elfwine Road, in a staring contest with the mail slot. He had only just managed to lift the flap when the door swung inward, stealing it from his grasp.

'Mr Higgins! Hello there.' Mrs MacIntire stood in the doorway, filling the air with the same amiable tone and brilliant smile as she had in the office.

'I— ' Zed choked on his silence for only a moment before proceeding as usual. 'Hello, Mrs MacIntire. How are you?'

'I’m very well, thank you. Though, I do have to wonder why you seem to have an eye on our mail slot. I can assure you that it wouldn’t be of much use without the accompanying door.'

'Mrs MacIntire, I would never— I mean, I wasn’t— I just... Came to deliver this.' He extended the envelope to her, his heart galloping in his chest. She took it graciously, running the tips of her fingers over the surface where it was littered with her son’s messy script. 'It’s a belated birthday card for your husband,' he explained when her brow wrinkled with what he could only assume was confusion. 'Mr MacIntire— the other Mr MacIntire— requested that I deliver it.'

She hummed in acknowledgement but admired the penmanship for a few moments more. When her gaze finally returned to Zed, it was at once soft and commanding. 'You, Zachary Higgins, are a very good man.'

If Zed’s cheeks had not already been set ablaze, they certainly would have been, now. 'Thank you, madam, but I’m honestly just the messenger. Mr MacIntire—'

'Has no idea that you’re here,' she finished for him with a sad smile. 'We both know that.'

Though Mac was painfully oblivious, his mother was drastically the opposite. Zed opened his mouth to speak but, not for the first time in the presence of a MacIntire, what resulted was merely the sputtering of an old car engine and an eventual, mortified nod.

'Take a walk with me?' He had scarcely nodded in reply once more before Mrs MacIntire had looped her arm through his and started down the sidewalk. 'It was a very nice thought, you know.' She waved the envelope slightly.

'Thank you, Mrs MacIntire,' he managed after a moment’s hesitation, not quite knowing what else to say.

'My name is Ana, son. I think we're past formalities.'

Silence descended upon the pair as they continued down the block. However, it was not entirely uncomfortable, much to his surprise. They made their way around the grand neighbourhood, Zed enjoying the quiet street and large trees. Not a bad place to grow up, he thought.

They were nearly to the end of the road before Mrs MacIntire broke the silence. 'You must think my son is a horrible person,' she mused, her tone melancholy rather than judgmental.

All the same, Zed's eyes widened tremendously. 'I never said—'

'You didn’t have to,' she said with the same sad smile from before. The silence returned for a few moments before she decided to continue. 'He wasn’t always like this, you know. My little Augie was the sweetest boy you’d ever want to meet— selfless as a saint, kind to a fault, and blissfully friendly to everyone around him.'

He blinked slowly, having a hard time processing that image. 'If you don’t mind my asking… what happened?'

'The same thing that happens to all little boys: he grew up. I tried with all my might to keep him the same caring, compassionate boy I’d raised… but outside forces had different plans in mind,' she explained, a crease forming between her eyebrows all the while. 'He was never the same after that.'

'I… I'm sorry,' Zed replied, averting his eyes. MacIntire... sweet? Compassionate? It was a bit too good to be true. Though, he was hardly going to argue with the man's mother. After all, if she was telling the truth, it was a damn shame for all of them.

'Don't be,' she assured him, though her voice was slightly wet with tears that had not yet fought their way to the surface. 'Just… be patient with him, though I know that task often comes with great difficulty. That little boy is still there, somewhere.'

Though he was more than a little stunned, he somehow managed to speak. 'Of course.'

'Thank you,' Mrs MacIntire said quietly, closing her eyes as though she were speaking to a higher being, rather than to him.

'You're welcome,' Zed said, finally returning his gaze to hers. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken words so sincerely.