James arrived at work just on time. Not too late. Not too early. Still, he rushed, because his boss was the type with odd beliefs about shift start times. And James was right. He barely had time to put on his work vest and, like a punctuality poltergeist, she spawned next to him clearing her throat. James jumped. Goddamn it! He put a hand to his chest, willing his startled heart to slow, and looked down at her. She was a tiny woman with a blunt haircut and chunky earrings, and she reminded him of a small bitey dog, like a chihuahua or– or a poorly groomed pomeranian. Her hot pink coveralls hurt his eyes.

“Hello, James,” she said, flashing a fake bright smile at him. She was certainly not pleased. James checked the clock on the wall again, just to make sure he was indeed not late. 

“Ugm, hi, Sisi,” James said, awkwardly. Silvia was in her early forties but insisted everyone address her by her nickname, which always made James feel weird. 

She smiled again and put her long-nailed hand on his arm. James suppressed a shudder, she was always keen on touching either his arm, or his chest, or his back. “You know, in order to be on time, you have to be at least ten minutes early, right?” 

James nodded slowly, thinking of ways to move away from her without offending. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “it’s… the traffic was horrible today.” He scratched the back of his head, forcing the woman to let go of him. He also bent and casually picked up a box to hold, using it as a shield. 

“Was it?” She waved her hand dismissively. “Well, that’s a relief. I thought you might’ve been sick.” 

You liar. James nodded. “I’m really sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“You should’ve called,” she said. “We can’t afford tardiness.” Silvia checked her watch and hummed, “You know fifteen minutes early is just on time right?”

 I wasn’t late. “I… yes. That’s my bad.” He nodded, trying not to get angry. Angrier. 

“Of course, I’m sure you’ll do better next time.” She smiled and patted his hand where it gripped the box. 

James forced himself not to drop it. “Of course,” he echoed her, switching his weight from one leg to the other. An odd tingle was spreading from where Silvia had touched him. He felt like washing his hands. What more could he say now? He didn’t know, so he waited. Why wasn’t she leaving? 

“Well,” Silvia checked her wristwatch a final time, “I’ll leave you to it. As you know, we can’t afford unproductivity.” She smiled sweetly. “I’m sure a strong guy like you won’t disappoint.” 

“No, ma’am.” 

She walked past him, touching his bicep on her way, “Don’t call me ma’am it makes me feel old.” She cackled. James sighed and closed his eyes. What a mess. It could’ve gone so much worse– at least Silvia was in a good mood. He put the box down and rubbed his arms, hating the feeling her touch left behind. Why did she keep doing that? What would happen if he asked her to stop? James shook the thought away, knowing it was pointless, and got back to work before he could get called out for slacking. What a freaking nightmare. 

He worked, mindlessly, waiting for the day to end. Trucks came and went, and he checked charts and moved boxes, one after the other, each one seeming heavier than the one before it.  James was getting bored, but he couldn’t put in headphones because that was a safety risk. He wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but he didn’t need another scolding. 

Silvia popped up again next to him half an hour before lunch break. James jumped - again - he hated when she did that. A part of him was also worried that he was going to turn and bump into her and then boom. She’d unleashed hell on him.

He forced a laugh. “Oh, sorry.”

“You keep saying sorry today.” She looked at him a bit too closely. 

“I’m sorr–.” James stopped himself and cleared his throat. “I didn’t see you there.” 

“That’s all right,” Silvia said. “I took the time to think about how you could make it up to me for being late.” 

I wasn’t late. I wasn’t fucking late. “Oh, what is it?” James asked, making a conscious effort not to take a few steps back. 

“You can totally take me out to lunch at the Italian place across the street.” She said it so matter of factly, that for a second James almost agreed.

He snapped out of it quickly. He wasn’t going to go on a lunch date with his boss! With his much older boss that he had zero interest in. She stood waiting for his answer, and he felt intimidation seep in, she was his boss and he needed this job, but… it wasn’t fair! Was she allowed to do this? James’ intuition told him that the answer was no, but at the same time, asking to have lunch with a coworker wasn’t HR worthy. James inhaled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m - I’m following a specific diet, and I can’t eat lunch. It’s -” He searched his mind for something one of his gym friends mentioned once. “I’m doing intermittent fasting.” James said, very aware that he’d never be able to eat lunch at work again. 

“Oh, I see,” she said. Her tone worried James, but he forced a smile. “Well, I guess that can’t be helped?” 

James breathed out slowly. “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but I’m very invested in - in… in my diet.” 

She nodded and rested her hand on his chest. “I guess I’ll have to think of something else.” She patted his shoulder and left. 

James wanted to scream.