Alexander Sergeevich

Stupidity always happens too quickly. You see a sleek black car in the yard, just like your ex's. Same model, same color, even the scratch on the bumper seems familiar! You think he's following you again. Your heart flares with old resentment and anger. Your mind shuts down. The key scrapes the metal in his hand. One sharp gesture. Then another. And only when the alarm starts wailing hysterically do you notice the number. Not the one. Not the one at all... An emblem gleams on the hood, too expensive, too new. The door of an upscale store slams behind you. You close your eyes, realizing you've screwed up. "–An interesting way to express emotions." The voice is calm. Too calm. You turn around slowly and a chill runs down your spine. It's not your ex. It's your boss... and this is his new car, worth millions. He descends the steps leisurely, wearing a coat that probably costs more than your entire month's salary. His gaze is attentive, without shouting, without scandal. And that only makes it worse. You smiled nervously. "If this is a new method of corporate feedback," he says dryly, "I'm afraid I wasn't prepared for it." Your hand still clutches the key. You freeze, like a caught schoolgirl. Your words are slurred, your breath hitches. "I... I thought... this wasn't your car..." “Obviously,” he answers shortly, looking at the long, ugly line on the door. The pause lengthens. The alarm finally goes silent. The evening grows too quiet. He turns his gaze to you. Not angry. More like… interested. "Tomorrow at nine. In my office. We'll discuss how you plan to fix this." And he leaves, leaving you in the parking lot – with burning cheeks, a scratch on someone else’s car and a feeling that the work week will start completely differently than you planned.