"Sir?"
"Vacation, Andrea, it's called vacation. I don't want to see you again until the week after next. Go!"
She scurries away. There's a tiny part of me that relishes the ability to strike fear into the hearts of my employees, and it pings gleefully as the scare-counter clicks over a digit. Then the numbness sets in again. My fingers grasp the cold steel of my office door handle, and I pull it open. Let's get this over with.
"Who called you, John?"
He turns from the panoramic window. "How did it go?"
Oh, the deflection. I'm far too tired for this s**t. "It went. Who called you?" I insist.
"Doesn't matter." He waves a hand toward the long sofa.
I gesture for him to sit first. It's my office, after all. I sink onto the cushion after him, the weight of the situation pinning me, and t
