WIP #1

Arthur Hew browsed through the file with speed and precision. It was hard to figure out his feelings, his wrinkled face appeared emotionless. He flipped, and flipped, his eyes seemingly scanning every page, yet giving nothing away.

Then suddenly in one impossibly smooth motion, he picked up the file and threw, no, flung it at me.

Naturally and instinctively, I ducked.

The file crashed into the glass wall behind me with a thud, which I suppose I should be thankful for. A shatter, unlikely as it could’ve been, would probably have led to even more abuse.

From my position on the floor, I could see Arthur’s elderly PA, Aniza, giving me a sympathetic look. I cast her a sheepish grin as I picked up the remnants of the file.  I avoided eye contact with Arthur, heck, I avoided looking at him at all. I imagined his gaze burning through my back.

“Bloody hell, next time you come clear a file, put some blood in it, and bring that miserable excuse of a manager along!”

Yeah, sure, I thought, so long as JD Chan doesn’t look into his 1001 book of excuses to avoid seeing you.

Gathering all my stuff, I made my exit. I had just gotten to my desk when I realised someone was following me. I whirled around, stabbing pen in hand, expecting to find Arthur, who may have decided to blood me ahead of schedule.

But it was Aniza. “You left this,” she said in such a soft voice it made me wonder (not for the first time) how she didn’t break into a million shards everytime her boss yelled. In her outstretched hand was part of my file label, ‘Ibrahim, Hew and Associates’. What a sordid way of reminding me of who I worked for.

 “Gee thanks,” I muttered. It was going to be a long day...