Elizabeth's POV

The air turns black all around me as I stroll towards the office. I can sense my icy fingers clutches against my flesh. Office chairs twist around to watch the show as my colleagues peek over their comfortable desk chairs, concentrating less on their work, neglecting the pain in their backs, yet glueing their eyes so as not to miss anything.

Every eye follows me to the extent that I consider that the eyes of the people in the paintings scattered unevenly encompassing the office are following me as well. Anticipation fills me up as the sound of silence engulfs every tittle of the cuboidal room. This censorship is similar to that of a graveyard; you can hear a pin drop.

I am shaking from the outside and burning on the inside. The thing I despise most is attention, and it is all that I'm having right now. All eyes are on me. Everyone in the office is eyeing me from head-to-toe, and I'm not this good in tolerating being the centre of attention.

Chortles, snickers, snortles, and titters radiate through the mass. Some sympathetic looks are also visible, but these are few. No one wants to annoy the boss (especially now). At least I'm taking credits for his flaming anger.

With the application I've been working on, I've had several irons in the fire, but now, the fire has blown-off. The boss walks out of the meeting room through the crowd of employees to his room.

The once smiling people are now laughing out of the other side of their mouths. It is satisfying, to be honest. These people even feel like bowing to him as he walks as quickly as a tornado, making paper fly everywhere.

As he turns to close his door, he shouts again, "NOW!"

His yell was enough to get everyone back to their desks and to resume the paused work. It's just Jennifer and me now, standing in the middle of the office that has roared back to life.

I hear the clipping of pens, the tac-tac sounds of keyboards, the clicking sound of the mouses, and the hisses of employees with clients. They all consolidate, forming the usual boisterous (yet acceptable) atmosphere of the office.

I feel like slapping Jennifer. How dare she steal my work? Unbelievable. She couldn't care less, and she's giving me the cold shoulder. Further, since they didn't protest, I assume the rumours are true about her having an affair with Mr Lawrence.

Kind and timid Jennifer that has once entered this office is now neither gentle nor shy, rather sly and daring. We've grown a monster in this office. She's cheap as chips for a damn promotion.

As if reading my mind, she buzzes to my ears, "why to buy a cow when milk is so cheap?" Her breath collides with my skin making me cut to the quick.

Jennifer pulls a tangle of my hair, then leaves. Every part of me hates her right now.

Without second thoughts, I bang my way to the office. Mr Lawrence is sitting on his wide desk, and he's tapping his feet on the ground. His office chair is facing the wall, leaving his stiff shoulders facing me instead.

Once he hears my footsteps, he adjusts his position and overlooks me. His face is chilli red, his eyes are forming two O's, and I swear I've seen his brown hair turning red too.

Pressing both hands fiercely on the desk lying in front of him, he is about to lash me out.

Out of the blue, I've decided that attacking is the best form of defence, "You made me do this."

"How on Eart-," he tries to say, but I cut him off again.

"I've been working on this project since forever. You assigned it to me. You asked me to make Jennifer part of the team. She betrays me, so consequently, you betrayed me," my voice starts to crack.

"This application means the world to me. You know it. I've been working for hours and days to make it," I remove the tear that slips from my eyes with the back of my hand.

I recall every detail from my application, proving it's entirely mine. I think I'm trying to reassure myself not to explain myself to Mr Lawrence.

"Remember the first time I came here to inform you about the idea?" I ask, and respond too. "Yes, you do."

I pause, regaining my energy. "I told you that I want to make an application where people could review each other. Record their thoughts about the other person. Reveal the secrets they hide, and diminish the rate of breakups. You see a person, at first, they seem innocuous, and then you find out they're the devil in disguise."

"Ms Elizabeth-," he starts, but I stop him again. Is he trying to be professional? He's far from being one.

That is not how things are supposed to be. It is so unethical. Life is never straightforward. If I have to fight, then I'll fight fire with fire.

"I've been working on flowcharts, databases, records, and system design for months...then she takes credit for them in a day?"

"Enough!" He begins to shout again.

"Two days?" I question him daringly, pointing my index finger at him.

"How dare you talk to me like this?" He takes a few steps forward so that we are dangerously near. Now it seems so appealing to slap him too.

"And how dare you STEAL my work like this?" I challenge. I have nothing to lose. At least then.

"You. Are. Fired." These three words slips out smoothly from his mouth. He heads back to his desk and sitting cross-legged.

This phrase has gotten no reaction from me. I just stood there shooting daggers at him. A few moments later, I adjust my clothes and reach for the door. When I am a shoulder in and a shoulder out, I turn back to him.

"There is something I have forgotten to say," I address him, rather naturally.

"And it is?" He demands dumbfoundedly.

"You are a jerk, sir," and with this, I slam the door shut, stressing on sir.

Collecting my belongings haphazardly from my desk, everyone at the office fixes their gazes at me again. I guess this is the most entertaining event they've observed in a long time. Even Jennifer looks so bewildered.

I have no morning routine now, and I won't be seeing any dense people in the morning until I find a new job. I try calling Laura, but her phone is dead. She must be enjoying her time now. Bless her.

As I get to my car, I text my boyfriend that I'm coming over now, but the message isn't delivered. I drop to grab us breakfast and some coffee from Starbucks.

Kevin's car is in the parking area, yet he didn't receive my message. Maybe he's reading or taking a shower, and he's not connected to the internet. I have his key, so I decide to make him a surprise by showing up in the middle of the day.

Yesterday, Kevin declared he would be unoccupied in the morning. He has a night shift at the restaurant where he works. I open the door as noiselessly as I can. His phone is on the kitchen counter, as well as his sweater. The word organization is missing from his dictionary.

Kevin and I have had a lot of arguments because he jitters everything around.

Dumbly, I put the food and drink in a tray and open his bedroom door.The sight that welcomes me in is far away from pleasant. I drop the tray with a loud bang drawing attention.