Nancy microwaved the coffee left over from the day before, fed the cats, fished her keys out of the crumpled receipts and subway transfers piled in her purse, and left for work.
"Fuck fuck FUCK," she shouted through gritted teeth as the traffic light went from yellow to red. She stood on the brake and reached for the mirror, turning it towards herself while reaching for the tube of lipstick in the cupholder.
She was only fifteen minutes late. She stormed towards the corner office without acknowledging her intern, Laura. The first thing she noticed was that, reflected in the immaculately dustless glass frame of her niece's graduation photo, she could see the blinking light of her desk phone. She'd missed a call already; there was a voicemail waiting. Nancy did a one-eighty. "Hell," she grumbled, setting down her half-finished grande vanilla chai frappuccino on a filing cabinet.
"Looks like I'll have to call you back," Laura said as the thumping heels came back around the corner. "Yeah, more parakeeting. Thanks, hun."
"Laura!" The screech drowned out completely the sound of the cellphone clicking shut.
Laura swiveled in her chair. "Yes?"
"I hired you to take my messages! Tell me why there's a call waiting -- do you expect somebody else to be minding the phones? Have you got something more important to do than your job? It shouldn't be too hard to find someone to perform this simple task..."
As her boss continued the tirade, Laura subtly twisted the ring on the third finger of her left hand, ensuring that the light from the diamond sparkled all the more belligerently.
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