Tied Together

Why am I Here

In the morning Logan almost crushes her alarm clock in a desperate swing of her arm as she attempts to turn off the repulsive, high pitched, screeching she has to endure to wake up on time every morning. Reluctantly Logan sits up and drags her legs off of the side of her bed. As she rises to her full height her legs threaten to give out. Logan stumbles on her way to the bathroom still half asleep. She lowers herself onto her knees and turns on the faucet and lets the cold water bellow out of the silver metal. Once Logan steps into the shower she let the refreshing streams of water weave their way through the frizzy mess of curls she woke up with. She then finished her shower and stepped into the stale, warm air of her apartment. Logan decided she was not at all ready to face the day but had no other choice. After getting ready she stepped into a warm and humid morning that is plagued by fog with beams of sunlight slicing through the darkness like blades. One glance at her wrist watch lets Logan know she has to start the short walk to her office. Logan hurries along the busy sidewalks of the early morning. She walks into her office building and her jaw almost hits the floor. The air is filled with muffled words of the conversations of the hundreds of people tightly packed into the lobby of the office. Fighting her way through the black and white crowd made of blouses and suits proved to be a difficult task. Just as Logan was about to fall she feels a strong grip close around her wrist as she is being pulled on to her feet then to the outskirts of the crowd. Once she has left the swarm of people she stares directly at Mr. Marcam who just happens to be the owner of the hand still clasped around her arm. She has never been glad to see Mr. Marcam; he was the dark spot of her day, every day. However, in that moment she couldn’t help but to feel a strong sensation of gratitude towards her very frustrating boss. That sense of thankfulness is short lived, it ends when Mr. Marcam practically shoves Logan into his office. She stumbles then thankfully catches herself when her hands hit the cold glaze of the wooden desk. Logan is mad and fully prepared to yell at Mr. Marcam for pushing her. Then Logan turns around only to find Mr. Marcam standing directly in front of her, so close he is towering over Logan. She starts walking in reverse only to remember the desk is behind her as it hits her lower back, Logan wants to give a shriek of pain but she stays strong determined to show no weakness. Mr. Marcam starts moving steadily, instantaneously closing the gap that had formed between them.  Even though Logan knows she can’t move back any farther she still tries, her back then arches as the cool metal edges of the wood presses against her shirt. Mr. Marcam  stops only once they’re one foot apart he tilts’ his head down to stare at Logan he attempts to meet her eyes. However Logan isn’t looking at him or anywhere near him for that matter, Logan is staring at the wall trying to completely avoid his gaze. Mr. Marcam sets his arms on either side of Logan cornering her against the desk. Despite the fact that she has no feelings except hatred and disgust for her boss she can’t help her reaction. Her heart begins racing as it pounds in her chest, her skin goes a deep crimson as she blushes, and her head has all but shut down. Mr. Marcam opens his mouth to speak. Logan draws in a breath and holds onto it. Mr. Marcam then takes a step back as if realizing for the first time how close he is to Logan. He starts blushing because of the embarrassment he just endured. Mr. Marcam then crosses his arms across his chest. Despite the incredibly stern look chiseled on his face Logan can’t help but release a sigh of relief as she regains her personal space. Trying to lighten the tense air filling the room and get her mind off of the events that just occurred Logan attempts to make conversation.