Tick-tock-tick-tock.
The tiny desktop clock ticked on into the late night hours, counting every agonizing second of work in slow motion as a short, crimson-haired girl tapped away at her keyboard. It felt like it had been ages since Raine's last break and with the way things were moving, it seemed like she wasn't going to be leaving any time soon.
She sighed, readjusting herself in the uncomfortable desk chair before opening another email. This time, it was a complaint from a single mother by the name of Judy.
The mail started off typical and innocent enough; beginning politely with "To Whom it May Concern," and then moving on to describe the woman's last trip to Joja Mart in excruciating detail, right down to the personal items which should not be mentioned. But just as in every other customer complaint she had stumbled through in the last three hours, it was laden with all sorts of passive-aggressive analogies which only grew more and more vicious by each punctuation mark. At some point, it turned into a seething rant about a moldy salad that she'd neglected to examine before feeding to her precious offspring. She probably just didn't bother to check the expiration date. Perhaps natural selection was just doing its job?
By the end, she was sure this woman had assumed her ultimate form before hitting 'Send,' as there was little more in her final sentences than a vibrant assortment of curse words and the girl counted that she had used the word 'sue' six times. She had to hand it to Judy—she was a colorful woman. Although she could probably stand to get off Suburban Dictionary and pick up a thesaurus.
"Well, that escalated quickly." She muttered under her breath.
The delete button was vying for her name as she moused over it with the cursor. As entertaining of a read as it was, the charm of reading consumer emails had run out during the first half hour of doing the task. It got tiring. Real fast. But it could have been worse. At least she wasn't dealing with data as much today. Numbers just weren't her thing.
Raine leaned forward on the desk, drawing in air for another deep sigh as she rubbed her sore eye sockets. "Hell is real," said the voice in the back of her head. "Well, according to the employee handbook, anytime someone mentions the word 'sue,' you have to offer them a coupon."
Swallowing her pride, she put up her best attempt at imitating someone who wasn't on the verge of suicide: offering her "sincerest apologies," promising to get in touch with human resources (which she would not do), and attaching a valid coupon that all customer service reps handed out to whiny customers as some form of grievance control.
After sending the email, she leaned down to open a drawer full of various files of papers and leafed through to the customer complaint form. She then grabbed a company pen from her company cup, and stopped to glance over at her… company clock.
Tick-tock-tick-tock.
It seemed that Judy had only managed to waste another eight minutes of her life. She bit her cheek a little, clicking the pen and turning her attention back to the form.
"Let's see… 'Name of persons whom—'"
Tick-tock-tick-tock.
Her green eyes shifted back over to the little clock to the left of the desktop. 'It's time to thrive!' the clock said in the center. Somehow, she didn't feel like she was thriving very much. For all she knew, there was a camera hidden in that thing.
Glancing from the file cabinet below back to the noisy device, she hatched an idea. The redhead grabbed the clock, opened a drawer, and dropped it in with a pad full of company sticky notes, stationary, and a few keys she had ripped off the keyboard because they kept getting stuck. At a closer look, she could see a slightly yellowed envelope poking out from under the junk.
"A letter?"
She did a double-take before picking up the sealed envelope and turning it over. She'd completely forgotten about putting it in there, which just came to show how often she ever opened that drawer. She hadn't seen it since she first brought it with her on her second week of the job.
Recognizing the wax seal right away, Raine remembered it had been written by her grandpa back before he died. During her last visits to his family farm as a kid, he always reminded her not to forget to open it one day. He never spoke of the contents of the letter, but she distinctively remembered his instructions; to open it only when she felt like she'd come to a dead end in life, so she assumed it must've been a motivational letter. Half hoping it was a check for ten-thousand dollars, she grinned at the silly idea. But she also reminded herself not to be greedy, even if it was a small sum from the farm.
Clutching the letter in her hand like a long lost sock, she scratched her head, then looked emptily out into the aisle of workstations. Now was as good as any other time, right?
Taking one last look to make sure none of the higher-ups were around, Raine tore open the envelope slowly…
Notes:
Hey, it's been a super long time since I've posted any kind of fanfic online. I feel pretty rusty and I know I don't always make the best grammar choices... but I tried! So I hope you'll enjoy my Stardew story. c:
My character's name was originally Raiyux as well because I use that name for everything, but it was just too corny and unfitting for a practical story. Plus it's just a little awkward when I go to ship her with one of the villagers, haha.
BTW, the title is inspired by a short story called 'There Will Come Soft Rains.' (It's also a terrible punny coincidence since it plays on my OC's name :p) It doesn't really have to do with that story, but I'm referencing the industrial-to-nature transition theme. I recommend you look it up!