“Interesting that’s your takeaway on the situation.”
He huffs and slumps down into his chair. “Eh, my takeaway. My takeaway is that you’ve lost your mind. I should look for a new job now, before word gets out that I work in a den of thieves and I’m unemployable.” He tsks, muttering to himself. “To think of all the years of dedicated service I’ve given you. My loyalty repaid like this.” He makes a resigned sweeping gesture with his arms, as if the polizia are closing in, guns drawn. “I’ll die in disgrace. Ah!”
He throws an arm over his eyes and whimpers.
I think he gets his sense of melodrama from his mother, too.
I pull up a chair across from his desk, sink into it, and drag my hands through my hair. “You asked what was wrong with me. I told you.”
“So accusing! You’d think I was the t
