Elizabeth's POV

"Catshit," I curse under my breath, choking on my Quesadillas after viewing my submissions.

How can a sane human being do this? My life falls into smithereens at this point; when it rains, it pours. My actions are taking things out of the frying pan and into the fire. Hopefully, no one will ever notice this, and they'll think I'm a crazy person spamming them. I get my lazy self up to clean the mess my irresponsible self has caused. While cleaning, I get several notifications. I don't even want to guess what's happening next. Uranus? For God's sake. How did I even know how many moons does this planet has? Beginners luck.

I try to focus my mind only on cleaning the mayhem I've made, but curiosity kills the cat. I've to see who's sending me all these simultaneous messages.

- notifications -

Mommy: your father is very sick.

Mommy: come as soon as possible, Elizabeth.

Mommy: I don't want you to regret this.

I clear the notifications. My mother is exaggerating the matter this time, and she's making matters worse. Why won't they let me off the hook? I don't want to be part of my family's drama anymore. That is what I'm sure about now. Why can't parents respect our choices for once?

Paul (the guy from the office): Jennifer took over your position.

Paul (the guy from the office): I'm not comfortable with this. She's unbearable.

Paul (the guy from the office): I already miss having you around.

Paul (the guy from the office): I mean, we.

Paul (the guy from the office): will you do anything about it?

I -kind of- expect the following messages, yet they still shock me. Jennifer takes over my job, I repeat, making it worse. I'm not an easy target. I'll fight for my idea, and I'll have my application to the lights before they do. I need to find a new place to start over.

Me: Yes, Paul. I'll do my best not to make her win. Thanks, btw.

I get an idea. Maybe Paul could help me? I'm don't even know what kind of help, but since he's still working there, he would tell me what's going over there. Immediately, he replies.

Paul (the guy from the office): You're very welcome.

I feel awkward about saving his number as Paul (the guy from the office). He is trying to be kind, isn't he? Neglecting the last notification, I decide it's better to call him. Remember, Elizabeth, no more planning. Do it on the spot.

"Do it at the drop of a hat!" I encourage myself articulately, calling him.

He answers quickly. "Hi, Paul," I say in my best voice because you can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar. Well, begun is half done.

"Hey! Hey, Elizabeth," he replies eagerly, yet try to maintain his calmness.

The thing is, Laura (damn her) has always told me that she thought that Paul has a thing for me. Honestly, I've been thinking this too lately (damn her again), but he didn't even ask me out for coffee nor approaches me on our mini work breaks in the office. Yet, whenever I tried to advance him, he stuttered and made a mess out of himself.

The silence is pretty awkward from his end and from mine too. I can picture how he looks right now. Nervous, stuttery, and weird, like he has always been. Texting me must have been challenging.

"We miss you so much," he finally confesses, using we instead of an I even though I know he's the one who misses me most. Beating around the bush, he avoids saying what he means because it's still uncomfortable.

I'm not trying to take advantage, still. I've hoped that Paul would offer to help me, "I, err-, I miss all my colleagues too," I emphasize on the word colleagues. When he doesn't reply, I try to pull his leg with a joke, "except one for sure." I mean Jennifer, and remembering her makes me scoff.

"Yeah," he anxiously says, exhaling loudly, "do you plan on doing something?"

This planning thing is the part I've been longing to reach. "I guess I have to finalize the application and publish it before Lawrence and Jennifer do," I tell him.

"Are you coming back?" He asks, his voice slightly higher and full of hope.

"Of course not!" I exclaim, "that Lawrence insulted me in front of everyone. I want revenge."

"Then how will you know about the release date?" He asks, doubtful.

"Well, I think this will be your role," I say, sounding a bit rude.

"Do you want me to help you?" He questions.

"Plea-," I'm about to beg, but Paul cuts me off.

"I'll surely love to help you, Elizabeth."

I'm sure I'm blushing, and my eyes are watery. "Thank you so much, Paul."

"Let us start!" He commences, moving from his desk. I can hear the wheels of the chair spinning around. "I'm setting myself a more private place," he informs.

Once I hear the door closes, I say, "let's begin with Lawrence."

"What do you have in mind? A penny for your thoughts."

I have a lot of things on my mind, and mercy isn't one of them. "By the way, are you in the archive room?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Head to the security room, and find the camera tape of the day before yesterday," I explain, electricity running through my veins faster than blood. To be clear, taking revenge can't be more satisfying.

"What about it?"

"You'll find a riveting mini makeout session in Lawrence's office," I grin.

He chuckles, "I get what you're trying to do."

"Revenge," I truthfully admit, "now we're in for the harder task. During your next meeting, play it in front of all the attendees." I grin harder this time, feeling my skin tearing. "Anonymously, of course," I add haphazardly.

"What if someone finds out?" He worriedly requires.

"No one will find out."

"How could you be this sure?" He demands.

"Because you know how to do it; it's not rocket science," I praise, "I trust you. Break a leg with it."

"I would do anything for you, Elizabeth," he concedes.

Sensing his comfort because of our long call, I blush, "thank you."

"Anytime," he hangs up.

I haven't even thought that this would go this smooth. Feeling relieved, I slam my body down on the couch, giving myself some time to relax. Giving Lawrence a hard time gets something out of my system. As for Jennifer, I'm sure that she's biting off more than she could chew. Because once she gets a bug in my program, she won't even know how to fix it.

- notification -

You've one unread email.

Wait, what is this? I smell trouble. There are clouds on the horizon. Opening the email, I'm dumbfounded by what I find.

Subject: Congratulations! You are selected to join our Flight to Uranus.

Dear Elizabeth,

Congratulations on being selected for our trip to Uranus. Thank you for filling out the form and for giving us some brilliant answers. You're our ideal participant. We want to help you with your life.

We invite you for an on-demand online interview via skype. You can find the link launched (pun intended) below.

We wish you a safe flight to Uranus!

I'm oblivious to why they chose a drunken person's response as ideal. Debating whether to give it a shot or not, I finally make up my mind to go for it. That is after lots of promises to myself that this isn't some maniac hacker playing on me. Why not go to Uranus? This beautiful blue-green planet must have a hidden love. If Earth isn't the best place to find love, then Uranus is where I'll go. Also, this is the isolated place I've been looking for the whole day.

Honestly, it takes two to tango.