I cleaned out my desk thoughtfully. There was my large calendar which lay on the desk and I used in addition to Microsoft Outlook. There was something weird about my brain that I found an appointment easier to remember if I wrote in down with a pen on paper versus typing it into a program. That was the reason I still kept a physical address book in addition to the contacts on my phone.

I picked the aforementioned calendar and address book up off the desk and put them into the large cardboard box that I had been given for this purpose. It was always difficult to say goodbye. I didn't love this internship when I started it but I learned to endure the hardship of being an underpaid overworked slave to my boss's whims and now, in some masochistic, Stockholm syndrome way, I was sad to see it go.

"Emily!"

I looked up from my musings as I heard my name called in that shrill voice I had come to hate and which permeated my dreams.

"Yes, Ms. Whithers?" I answered in my polite, gracious, please-don't-fire-me tone of voice I had adopted these past six months.

She left her office and came over to my cubicle. Her chest rose and fell slowly like it usually did when she was trying to stop a panic attack.

"Emily… "She swallowed hesitantly. "Emily, you're a good worker. I know I'm difficult to deal with…." She laughed nervously. "I've heard you and the other interns calling me 'Dragon Lady' behind my back and I deserve it. You've put up with me better than the rest and if you need a recommendation for school or your next job I'll be happy to give you a glowing review."

My eyes widened and my jaw almost fell open but I managed to rein it in.

"Oh, Emily… You do know I'm human?" She seemed almost… pleading.

I took a deep breath to compose myself. I raised my chin, looked her in the eye and told her the god's honest truth, "No Ms. Whithers, I wasn't sure. I mean…" I chose my words carefully. "I know that you're physically human because androids don't exist yet but you seemed to have no heart. Remember when I had the stomach flu?"

She blanched.

"You told me, and I quote, 'Maybe now you'll be able to vomit off the pounds that you didn't have the willpower to starve away. This is a fashion magazine; we have an image to uphold. I can't have designers come in here and see I've hired a size 12!'"

A tear rolled down her face.

"Emily, I'm so sorry. Truly."

"Ms. Whithers, you should be."

There was an awkward silence. Then she wiped away her eyes and left. I watched her as she went, footsteps slow and shoulders slumped, back to her office.

I sighed and continued to pack up my things. I had had valuable on-the-job training. I could memorize orders instantaneously… God knows I had needed to. My first day, when I got her Starbucks order wrong… I shuddered at the memory of it. She had ripped me a new one in front of ten members of the editorial staff. Three of them had since left citing heart problems from the constant stress and I didn't blame them.