I Wish You Love
Part One
I, owner of Office Objects sighed.
Not for the first time that dull dreary February afternoon either.
From my high vantage point of an office, perched precariously over the crowded manufacturing floor, I could see every move every employer made.
It wasn’t interesting.
I sighed again.
My muscled legs were stretched over the pristine desk, toned arms folded behind my head as I relaxed into the office chair. Curly brown hair fell over my cappuccino coloured eyes, framed by my heart shaped smooth face. Handsome. Devilishly so.
In fact, was anything about this job interesting?
Office Objects had been built up from meagre beginnings selling paperclips in a back alley of London, to a nationwide office supplier in as little as ten years. With me at the helm, the company had shoved its way into the most moneymaking corporation in the country. Along with that success, I had become very popular, with the excellent social life, not to mention filthy rich.
Didn’t stop me sighing though.
Didn't make me happy either.
The silence surrounding the office shattered as the dull ring of the phone sliced the air.
“Office Objects. Kim Galling speaking. How can I help?” chirped the constant cheery voice of the receptionist. Well. I wish I could say she was just a receptionist. But the bubbly twenty year old had happily promoted herself from simple office assistant to agony aunt in the few months she had worked for me.
“Mrs O’Brien. I’ll just check for you,” I heard her chirrup.
“I’m not in,” I called through to the office.
Kim’s face glared through the glass.
“I’m afraid he’s not in Mrs O’Brien. Try again later.” She said firmly before flinging the phone down and bringing herself through along with a skirt which had got confused about it’s original identity: a belt.
“Trouble in paradise?” Kim enquired, plonking her large behind into a comfy chair.
“No.” I replied sternly.
“Liar.”
This time I glared. What was worse than the fact Kim decided upon her new job without any input from me, was that she was always scarily right. You asked for it, I thought before bursting into a tirade.
“Same job. Same house. Same life. Same wife. Same boredom-“
“Same miserable old sod.” She rolled her eyes.
Bloody receptionist: she needs putting down.
Not for the first time that dull dreary February afternoon either.
From my high vantage point of an office, perched precariously over the crowded manufacturing floor, I could see every move every employer made.
It wasn’t interesting.
I sighed again.
My muscled legs were stretched over the pristine desk, toned arms folded behind my head as I relaxed into the office chair. Curly brown hair fell over my cappuccino coloured eyes, framed by my heart shaped smooth face. Handsome. Devilishly so.
In fact, was anything about this job interesting?
Office Objects had been built up from meagre beginnings selling paperclips in a back alley of London, to a nationwide office supplier in as little as ten years. With me at the helm, the company had shoved its way into the most moneymaking corporation in the country. Along with that success, I had become very popular, with the excellent social life, not to mention filthy rich.
Didn’t stop me sighing though.
Didn't make me happy either.
The silence surrounding the office shattered as the dull ring of the phone sliced the air.
“Office Objects. Kim Galling speaking. How can I help?” chirped the constant cheery voice of the receptionist. Well. I wish I could say she was just a receptionist. But the bubbly twenty year old had happily promoted herself from simple office assistant to agony aunt in the few months she had worked for me.
“Mrs O’Brien. I’ll just check for you,” I heard her chirrup.
“I’m not in,” I called through to the office.
Kim’s face glared through the glass.
“I’m afraid he’s not in Mrs O’Brien. Try again later.” She said firmly before flinging the phone down and bringing herself through along with a skirt which had got confused about it’s original identity: a belt.
“Trouble in paradise?” Kim enquired, plonking her large behind into a comfy chair.
“No.” I replied sternly.
“Liar.”
This time I glared. What was worse than the fact Kim decided upon her new job without any input from me, was that she was always scarily right. You asked for it, I thought before bursting into a tirade.
“Same job. Same house. Same life. Same wife. Same boredom-“
“Same miserable old sod.” She rolled her eyes.
Bloody receptionist: she needs putting down.
♠ ♠ ♠
I wrote this quite a while ago, it was half published on Quizilla, but was not noticed at all and I deleted it despite my love of it. It is a simple story, but its quite deep and I like it. Please comment if you subscribe, or even just like it. It will make my day <3