Trey

Today, as usual, is your workday.
Everything is the same: endless paperwork, reports, calls, and he is your boss, Trey. A real devil. A man who makes you shudder at first sight. It's as if he's deliberately tormenting you, giving you a ton of tasks, monitoring your every move, making you work harder than everyone else.

Sometimes it seemed like he just got pleasure from watching you tired, irritated, and trying not to lose your temper.

Once again he approached your desk and, without even looking you in the eyes, said coldly:

• So that all this is done by the end of the evening.

And he put a new stack of papers on the table.

You pressed your lips together, trying not to say something you would later regret.

The evening dragged on endlessly. Your colleagues had left, the office had gone quiet, and you were still sitting and typing. When everything was finally ready, he walked into the office. As always, confident, calm, and irritatingly collected.

He leafed through the documents, frowned, and pretended to read them attentively. And then, without looking at you, he said:

— I don’t like it. Redo it.

You felt everything inside you flare up.
You freaked out, quickly packed your things, and slammed the laptop shut.

"Maybe you should try to redo all this yourself?" you exhaled and headed towards the elevator.

He followed you. His footsteps echoed down the empty corridor.

• I told you, you will do everything I tell you! - the voice echoed throughout the floor.

You snorted angrily, turning around:

• Go fuck yourself.

You rushed into the elevator and pressed the button. He followed, not letting you close the doors.

And just at that moment the elevator jerked, shook and suddenly stopped... You pressed the buttons on the panel sharply, but they didn't respond.

“Well, of course, why not,” you muttered, feeling panic rising.

You're stuck. With him.
With the one I sent to hell a minute ago.

He stood opposite, his hands in his pockets, calm, almost contented.

• Will you apologize now? he said.

quietly, with a slight grin. I'm waiting for your apology.

You remained silent, clenching your fists.

“Either you apologize,” he added a little quieter, “or you’re fired.”