That smirk. That fucking smirk. Adam was grinning devilishly, tapping away at his keyboard, glancing over to me from his cubicle. I knew he was up to something—I just wasn’t sure what.

                “URGENT – PLEASE READ IMMEDIATELY!” was all in glittering red letters, scrunched up between rows and rows of black text from emails on meetings and data sheets. Oh, god, here it is, I thought to myself.

                “Hi, Viv,” it began, “I need to speak to you. Could you come by my office at 4? Thanks, Bertholda.”

                It’s not that bad. It can’t be that bad. Right? I tried convincing myself, but something told me this spelt the end. All those awkward stares passed around lunchtime told me everything I needed to know, but, dammit if I didn’t keep hope alive.

                I stalked the clock and watched it as it inched closer and closer to 4. 2:30 PM. 3:00 PM. 3:30 PM. 3:45 PM. 3:50 PM. 3:53 PM. Oh, shit. Pivoting in my desk chair, I could see Bertholda in her usual black pencil dress, black blazer, and black kitten heels waving from her office—motioning for me to come over. I wanted to cry, throw up, and shit my pants all at the same time. I gripped my brown leather handbag in a swift swipe and began my trek. My heart dropped to my intestines. Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god.

                Pressing open the glass door, I walked into Bertholda’s office. It was quaint and cozy, dressed in all the hallmarks of an old-fashioned lawyer’s office, even though we were not, in fact, lawyers: burgundy velvet carpet, cherrywood desks and cabinets, and a stainless-steel lamp shining a bright yellow. I still remember when she forced me to go shopping with her for swatches and décor. It took 3 days.

“Hi, so, um, I just wanted to talk to you,” Bertholda began as she walked over to me, “You know, I really like you. You’re like a sister to me—a work sister, you know. You’re amazing really. It’s just—It’s just—you know…” She leaned in, keeping her eyes trained to mine. I could feel my brows pressing into each other so much it almost gave me a headache.

                “For god’s sake, Bertholda, please spit it out,” I said. She sighed. Mentally, I prepared myself for the worst.

                “We’re letting you go.” My eyes widened. I blinked a few times.

                “Are you serious right now?” I said, a biting resentment peeking through my words. She nodded in that feverish toddler way she always does. “Am I—Am I missing something? I’ve supported your start-up from the beginning. I-I went to events and marketed and socialized, even though you know I hate talking to people.” I expected this, and, yet, somehow, it still pissed me off.

                “Yeah, yeah, and I appreciate it. Really, I do. I mean, you’ve been amazing. The whole time. The whole way through. It’s just—you know, with Adam and all… ”Her eyes began to dart around the room. I squinted my eyes, glaring as meanly as I possibly could. She picked at her fingernails. “Well, we’re getting married soon—and—and you know he doesn’t really like you and—and—you know his father basically funds everything so—so…”

“So, I’m getting kicked to the curb, huh?” I snorted. I could hardly stop myself from pacing. “Of course. Of course I am,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Screw me, right?”

“No, no,” she said emphatically as she grabbed my hands. “Not screw you! You’re an amazing employee…” She paused and looked away for just a moment. I could tell more bullshit was coming. “Of course, I can’t give you a good recommendation, though, ‘cause you know Adam.” In a flash, I snatched away my hands.

“What the fuck, Bertholda? Ugh, what am I gonna do? You’re the only work experience I have since college.” I slinked into the client chair. Truth be told, I had been looking for a different job for years; I just could never find something I knew I could be happy with. Shame on me. I should’ve looked harder.

“Relax, you’re young! You’ll find something!” She cried. “You’ll do great. I know it! I know it! This little thing is nothing for you!” At this point, she was bobbing her head so hard I thought it might pop off.

“Oh, for the love of God, Bertholda, do you even comprehend how royally you’ve fucked me?” I braced my head in my palm and gripped the arm of the chair as tightly as I could. I felt nauseous in the worst of ways.

“Uh, well, I’ll send you your last paycheck tomorrow. I’d go through the whole week notice process, but Adam thinks I should just rip the band-aid, you know?”

Peeling myself from the leather of the office chair, I stalked out of her office and stumbled around cubicles. Unfortunately for me, the bathroom was on the opposite side of the building. I could hear Adam snickering with his clique at the printers next to the bathrooms.

“Finally!” A man remarked.

In my head, bills were spinning around and around and around: Student loans, rent, cellphone, electric. Student loans, rent, cellphone, electric.  I was hardly getting paid enough in the first place, and Bertholda hardly ever helped me get to any events or pay for food or anything, so I hardly ever had savings. I was already behind in rent payments. Oh, god, Beck is going to kill me.

I shoved myself through the bathroom and braced myself against a toilet, trying to suppress the bile threatening my esophagus. Just breathe. Just breathe. I wheezed and almost choked on my own saliva.

Today is just not my fucking day.