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Dark eyelids weighed down the paperwork grimace on her face; stretching between the corners of loneliness and unrealistic quiet nights' ins. Figures had been picked off the sidewalk and on to the front page of media, business was booming; the volcano of secrets and options engulfed the workspace. Documents of evidence and apologies of these special events had be surfaced, and new but elderly faces reappeared into the scene; experiences of the old days lathering their taste buds, and the weight of boredom on other's necks. Weakness has led her to being the suicide showcase to the social stories of the previous success of the company, and people were talking; unstable and obsessed were flung upon tongues. Though to him, she was seen as the best and the most outstanding worker for the dire situation, because as she rolled the pay checks in for the peers of the office, the horizon of the Vegas smile seemed only too close. A death would be more inviting than the ocean of those eyes, which lured and tormented. Bittersweet memories were savoured only by the ink of her pen under the covers at night, and still these illusions were all becoming too real. So opaque, that he called her to a meeting.
The red and orange leather that was enveloping the cushion that she perched against, reflected confidence to the dark extensions of her pretty china face, and life was brought upon those pale cheeks. The tension the receptionist set was starting to time to the tick of the clock, and the tiniest murmurs of wind, set the goose bumps of reaction to her skin. Why did he take so long, there was no wrinkle left on the plastic of power to varnish, and she was even late herself after being struck by a question? The young red headed women at the mauve desk labelled with a few phones, smiled through lip stick tinted teeth, like so many times before, and winked selectively over the girl; buying more time to prowl over her competition. A ring, the phone closest to the women's left sprung about the wood in an awaiting motion. The line was picked up; word and sweet talk whispered down a wire. Waiting and combing through the untidy shirt the girl picked from her wardrobe, she clenched her teeth and hoped for a beckoning. An hour later, the women set down the device, and raised her eyebrow, as if she was guessing something; then waved her hand for the girl to step through to the boundary of authority.
Another fake smile greeted her; he nodded for her to seat herself opposite his navy suit of desire and greed.
"I have a proposition,"
Nightmare became reality, and the body of something unjust was waltzing down a catwalk of despair. Owning it. Biting her lip, she covered her face with hair, to protect the blow of the misery.
"He needs you,"
That's what the monster said upon his own pink lips, and kissed her very own. Then someone else's, with the gloss of morbid rejection and gifts of depression.
"It's just a short job, for about six months, some adolescents no man could control,"
For the first time she spited her distaste,
"You know I can't look at him," It was afact, not a question, and the man across from her knew all too well the complications of his request.
"Trust me Bliss, you won't even recognise him."
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