Actually, she enjoyed the tasks, sank into the little world in her screen, and when she rolled the mouse to see the taskbar, she was surprised to realize it was already 8:10.
She clawed up her coat and bag, and took wide steps to the elevator. Pumping the down button, she berated herself. "I should have called. I really should have..."
When the doors opened, she jumped through them and bumped a guy standing right there.
"I'm sorry." He stumbled back. "I didn't think anyone was even in the building."
"No, I'm sorry." She wished she had been the only one left. The elevator slowly closed and seal-packed them into awkwardness.
"I'm Sam Harris, from HR."
"Gene Hampton, Advertising," she answered.
"Gene...oh, Genevieve!" He gave a self-congratulatory smile. "Sorry, I do payroll, so..."
She nodded. Then, she did what most people do during awkward elevator rides, which was watch the numbers of the floors roll down to one, so they can get out.
Why was the screen stuck between two numbers, she thought. But the answer was clear, because everything in the elevator went dark and still.
"Not tonight," she moaned. It would be scrying-spells for sure, and that always made her sneeze.
"Genevieve? You okay?" Sam Harris, from HR, shuffled and stepped on her foot. "Sorry."
"It's fine. Do you think the power's out, or something?"
"Or something," he chose. She rolled her eyes - it wasn't that kind of question. "It is an old building."
"SRT Media totally gutted it when they remodelled," she told him. That was just a few years before she'd started there.
"Think it was a ghost?"
"There's no such thing as ghosts," she corrected him, like he was a schoolboy. Actually, there were, but she'd know if any were around.
"You're a very serious person, aren't you, Genevieve?"
Why was she trapped in an elevator with the one person at work who knew her full name?
"God, how long is this going to take?" She wondered if she could succeed in just ignoring him.
She clawed up her coat and bag, and took wide steps to the elevator. Pumping the down button, she berated herself. "I should have called. I really should have..."
When the doors opened, she jumped through them and bumped a guy standing right there.
"I'm sorry." He stumbled back. "I didn't think anyone was even in the building."
"No, I'm sorry." She wished she had been the only one left. The elevator slowly closed and seal-packed them into awkwardness.
"I'm Sam Harris, from HR."
"Gene Hampton, Advertising," she answered.
"Gene...oh, Genevieve!" He gave a self-congratulatory smile. "Sorry, I do payroll, so..."
She nodded. Then, she did what most people do during awkward elevator rides, which was watch the numbers of the floors roll down to one, so they can get out.
Why was the screen stuck between two numbers, she thought. But the answer was clear, because everything in the elevator went dark and still.
"Not tonight," she moaned. It would be scrying-spells for sure, and that always made her sneeze.
"Genevieve? You okay?" Sam Harris, from HR, shuffled and stepped on her foot. "Sorry."
"It's fine. Do you think the power's out, or something?"
"Or something," he chose. She rolled her eyes - it wasn't that kind of question. "It is an old building."
"SRT Media totally gutted it when they remodelled," she told him. That was just a few years before she'd started there.
"Think it was a ghost?"
"There's no such thing as ghosts," she corrected him, like he was a schoolboy. Actually, there were, but she'd know if any were around.
"You're a very serious person, aren't you, Genevieve?"
Why was she trapped in an elevator with the one person at work who knew her full name?
"God, how long is this going to take?" She wondered if she could succeed in just ignoring him.
