Chapter Text
Iris
There was a silent rustling outside, and neighbours around were gossiping too loudly.
I couldn't be bothered.
I just discovered my first grey hair. I trace my fingers along my scalp slowly, combing through to scout for more whites. It can't be. I'm only 30, right? Not terribly young but not that old either.
Though the swollen puffiness in my eyes suggested my body's healing abilities are far from what they once were. I am getting old.
Old and alone.
I almost broke out in tears.
AGAIN.
If only I had more left to cry...
It's only Tuesday and the week already seem like it had gone twice over. I got a round of bout from my manager yesterday.
"Can I please, just leave the edits as is? I am quite satisfied with this version. And I think it's the best we have," I mouthed, hoping she would accept the version this time.
"Don't you think you could do better? I think the script here sound funny. Let's change the subs and move the shots I indicated as per my last email. It would look better," she flashed a sinister smile.
I breathed in, the email was a shit long one. She probably played the video second by second, then hit pause to scrutinize every piece on screen thinking how to make my life hell when she finally replied. I knew it, she said nothing at the script stage because she wanted to do what she was doing now.
BITCH.
00:02 - This part, needs more smoothening, footage could be replaced with someone standing looking out to the sea
00:06 - Add a comma in between the subs, make it clear
00:12 - Change the shot to the one from 00:14 to 00:18
00:17 - add a comma at the end of the sentence
00:23 - add a fullstop at the end of the sentence
00:34 - add a comma at the end
00:37 - same, add a fullstop
00:43 - 'supplying skills and jobs' doesn't make sense. what do we mean by this? and add a comma at the end of the sentence
00:49 - again, shot doesn't make sense, change it to the skyline shots
00:55 - needs a beat longer, pause more
and the list goes on
see me if you have trouble understanding,
Best,
Jessica
This bitch.
No one is that free. Does she just watch and scrutinize everything I do all the time?? I'm a grown woman. A senior. Why does she do this?
Ping
My attention snapped back to my reflection in the mirror. I turn lazily and walk back to my bed, plopping down while grabbing my phone from the sidestand.
"Action Required: Your payment of $80 to IETZ Brnd due on June 15 was unsuccessful due to insufficient funds. Please top up your account or contact your bank. Log onto your online account at e-trilk to retry the deduction."
I scrolled through my messages—more alerts on insufficient funds. Great. It's only the 15th. Sure, some ways to go but I'm almost there. I'll get my pay at the end of the month and clear all these off. Just have to offset my current credit. Things haven't been good lately and the last thing I want is to use my credit card to clear off my outstanding payments. I glance at the time.
08:20am
I jump up, grabbing my hairclip, bag and keys. Today is not a good day to be late. As much as I hate seeing Jessica each morning I need to be in the office before she finds a way to pick at me again.
Sometimes I wish Ollie hadn't been promoted and that I stayed reporting to him. I push the thought to the back of my mind and head for the carpark.
Many lots were empty by the time I pull out of my lot on the third floor. It's a hassle having to go through six floors every morning just to reach the driveway.
The sky looked grey and dull, like it was going drizzle but not a drop of rain has fallen.
Speeding up, I merge into the late morning traffic, pleasantly surprised to find the roads less busy than usual. I pull up at a traffic light near a junction and noticed a teenage couple drinking from the same coffee cup, exchanging glances and giggling at the far end of a bench.
Disgusting... Shouldn't they be in school by now?
Then I thought of my aunt Monie.
Such a lovely soul gone too soon.
If she were still here, we'd be joking about calling their parents. "Asians," she'd chortle. "Their parents will kill them."
I couldn't help but laugh. Monie always managed to find trouble when there wasn't any, and somehow I always end up joining her.
I miss her.
She would've made today a little less unbearable. I let out a slow sigh and try to silence my thoughts.
Now is not a good time to think about her. If I start going down this hole I won't survive the workday with Jessica later.
Just as I brought my attention back to my wheel, a motorcycle zipped past.
HONK!
Christ! I must be holding up traffic!
I jolted and stepped on the pedal.
But just as I look up, before I could yank on my brakes—
BOOM!!!
The impact isn't huge enough to deploy the airbags but I know I hit something, or someone, as the force threw me forward against my seatbelt. I sag back into my seat for a second.
No.... no, no, no... Pleasee.
Please tell me it's just a pole, an obstacle, a cone, anything. This is not a good day to add murder to the list of bad things I already have on my plate.
My heart leapt into my throat, thumping hard.
I unfastened my seatbelt, switched on the hazard lights and stumbled out of the car—moving quickly towards the sound of metal scraping against asphalt.
It was a man, back against me, propping up the side mirror against his left arm as he shoved his bike to the side. Slowly standing, he dusted at nothing from his sleeves.
He's dressed in an all-black jacket with navy pants. Tall, broad shoulders but his helmet covered his face completely and he turned his unreadable dark visor covers to face me.
I look at him, then at his bike laying on the floor. It looked to be nothing too expensive.
A Suzuki perhaps? I couldn't tell the make except that it wasn't a high-end bike. Probably a teenage mature-bodied boy riding around?
He looked fine and the damage on his bad wasn't that bad either.
I should get out of this fine. I'll pacify him with my signature poor me look, sincerely apologize then give him some money for his trouble. That ought to settle it.
Teenage boys are usually easy when faced with teary-eyed apology, right?
"Well no shit lady, are you blind?" he mouthed.
The words hit me before I could even process them.
That...
...wasn't a teenage boy's voice.
It was deep. Smooth. Mature.
Even behind the helmet. You can clearly tell it was the kind of voice that belonged to a man who'd lived long enough to stop raising it.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, I lift my gaze from the fallen motorcycle to its owner.
And almost certainly, I thought, this day would go from terrible... to well, shit.