She hadn’t seen him in days, but appearing too eager was not the goal. Cool. Calm. Dignified. She would act normal and let things develop naturally. After all, repeating history would not do.
As she powered up her laptop, she allowed her gaze to inch up the screen until it was just above the cubicle wall. Brown orbs met blue, and she froze.
“Oh! Good morning. How…how are you?”
He smiled softly as if there were a secret to be kept and then replied, “Better, now that you’re here.”
Her wide smile told all.
About the Creator
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More stories from Nicole Wong and writers in Fiction and other communities.
No Man's Land
The chasm between dragons and all other moving creatures was as wide as it was unknown. On either side of the existence, only what was passed down from preceding generations taught one creation what purpose another served. Man saw dragons as breeders of majesty, regulators of populous cattle, and a means to wealth. Dragons saw men as herders at best and enemy hunters at worst. It was, therefore, unfathomable to scaled flyers that a human would enter the Fire Breath. That area was a no man’s land unless that man was seeking to kill. Schrader wondered if that was what this man intended.
By Nicole Wong3 years ago in Fiction
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Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
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Chapter Six Watching the clock slowly tick closer to 4:00 pm made me feel like I was back in elementary school, eagerly awaiting the last bell of the day to ring. At 3:55, I gathered my things and powered down my computer. I stole a glance at Irene’s closed office door. An urge to go in overtook me, and I gave in, opening the door with my spare key. As I pushed open the door, a sudden wave of guilt passed over me. Don’t be silly, I chided myself. There was absolutely no reason I shouldn’t be in Irene’s office. Glancing over the surfaces of her desk and filing cabinet, I saw that little had been disturbed since the previous day. Again, that made sense - who else would have been in here? The police clearly had not deemed any of the papers strewn across her desk to be of interest in the case. But, as I looked them over, I saw that the genealogical research I had seen the other day was all still there. I glanced over my shoulder quickly before making the split second decision to take the papers. I needed to be able to cross reference them with the letter I had found, and I needed to do that in the privacy of my home, lest someone see what I was doing and think I was trying to cover something up. I quickly grabbed an unused manilla folder from the box on the top of Irene’s filling cabinet and hurriedly gathered the papers, jamming them in my tote bag.
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This single post says more about our ruling class than a thousand policy papers. The saddest thing about today's system is that the men robbing the rest of us - sabotaging our economic prospects, our pensions, our access to affordable healthcare - are not even happy.
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