Everything feels heavy. She should be trying to break free, but she feels it is better this way. Just to let herself be pulled into nothingness. Deeper and deeper into sweet, sweet oblivion. Never mind that her limbs are getting numb. It won't matter later anyways. Noises, they seem very distant, and it is being taken farther and farther away. Now, everything becomes dimmer, light going away from her eyes. Just a little longer, and all of this will be over…
"Hey!" and a sharp slap to her shoulder blades.
"Great. Just. Great." she muttered to herself "This is the first time in ages that I am not drowning in paperwork. What would a five minute nap be?!" she shouted to no one in particular, massaging her shoulder.
"It's office hours. Do it on your break time. " a pause. "See? You are disturbing public order!" she heard a voice from her back.
"Wow. Like it's not my fault that I'm the one doing all your backlogs from the last time you went on vacation." she said. "By the way. that hurts. That slap of yours will definitely leave a bruise" she said, turning her eyes on her co-worker.
"Okay, I'm sorry. I just need to wake you up as quickly as possible. Admit it. That was pretty effective, eh?" the co-worker said.
"Yeah. Very effective. This thing would hurt well until tomorrow. Let me guess. You have a date later and you need me to take over your collection list. Again." she said even before her co-worker opened her mouth to explain.
"Really? You would? Thank you so much!" her co-worker squealed as she glared at her. "No! I'm not asking for that! Boss called for you actually."
" WHAT! AND YOU DID NOT TELL ME SOONER?!" she yelled " YOU ARE SOOO GONNA GET IT ONCE I GET BACK ! JUST SO YOU WAIT!" she continued as she started running towards her boss' office.
-line break-
A knock on the door. " Hey boss, am I in trouble?" she said, peering from the semi-open door.
A quick 'sit down' was the only acknowledgement she received form her supervisor.
Not wanting to incur her supervisor's wrath or incur it further, whichever the case may be, she quickly made her way to the desk and sat down, waiting for whatever judgment to pass.
"I believe you are already done with your collections, is that correct?"
"Yes sir."
"And the reports?"
"All has been routed to your office already, sir."
"I see."
She swears this silent treatment is the worst. Can't her boss just tell her what she did wrong and get it over with? Why let her stew like this and prolong her agony like this?
"Not that I'm being rude or anything, but is there any reason you called for me, sir?"
Her boss just looked at her for a moment and went back to his paperwork. After an eternity, at least to her, he pulled out a folder and said "Do you remember this file?"
The time it took for the folder to leave her supervisor's hands to her side of the table afforded her a quick nervous breakdown; thoughts including but not limited to: Oh, shit what have I done now?, I swear it was just that one time! and, How can I get myself out of this mess?.
"You might want to save yourself a coronary and look at the file."
"Of course. Sorry sir." she said, picking up the file. Upon laying eyes on the file, she uttered a string of profanities, completely forgetting she's still in her supervisor's office.
The sound of clearing one's throat took her out of her invective. Eyes widening at her current audience, she managed to look abashed as she mumbled a 'sorry about that, sir' to her supervisor.
"Fully understandable in this case, so I'll let that unprofessional behavior slide this time. Now, I believe you have questions?"
Slipping into a calculating look, she reviewed the file. Not to say that she does not know what is in the file, she's assigned to this case, from the first contact, to all subsequent contacts made, none of which were welcome, nor appreciated. A contact without a collection messes up one's quota. And that is never a good thing. The last page warranted a good look though.
"Please don't tell me this is not a application for dispatch form."
"This will be the final dispatch, I assure you."
"Have they given up on him or something? Please tell me I'm allowed to process a collection this time."
"Management has decided that he qualified for the Program, as indicated by Departmental Order Number 444."
"Oh". It was the only thing she can say without being totally unprofessional in front of her supervisor. She then pulled out a pen from her pocket, signed her name at the bottom of the form and said "What room, sir?"
A/N:
Yes, I know I should not be starting another series as In the Name of Equivalence is still ongoing. But this chapter is already written even before I discovered AO3! It's supposed to be a sappy love story between a guy and a reaper girl, but then again, I was fifteen that time and that was thirteen years ago. So I adapted it to fit the "Death Challenge" by CoastalFirebird in FFN. So, Enjoy and don't forget to show your support. :)
usual disclaimers. Only this chapter is wholly mine as including the mistakes (yep, unbeta'd)
