Tikva sits up with a jerk, the sounds of phones and typing filling her groggy head. She blinks and rubs the sleepiness from her eyes, staring at the spreadsheet before her. Yawning, she pushes herself up and stretches, watching around the various desks, with light pouring in from the bright open windows.
“Miss Tikkanen, are you feeling alright?”
Tikva spins around, blushing at the sight of her manager, Tybalt. The young man always had an air of friendliness but always had a cold hand where it mattered.
Tikva gulps, running a hand through her head. “I’m sorry, boss. I guess I was just tired from last night, hehe….”
“No need to explain,” he says, his hand up to stop her. “We need all hands on deck, so if you need to grab yourself an extra energy drink, here.” He reaches into the breast pocket of his probably too-tight shirt and pulls out a dollar. “This should get you something to put some pep in your step.”
Tikva takes the dollar and shuffles from her desk, heading into the hallway. The long corridors are clean and gray, but the breakroom is right down the hall. She’s passed by two higher-ups who pay her no mind as she walks through the lobby, but she sees herself in the mirror when she looks toward them.
Tikva’s strawberry blond hair is messy. Her glasses are gently askew, and her usually vibrant eyes are dull.
She yawns, patting her hair down and shrugging. What more is there to do in the drudgery of day-to-day existence but to make herself look good? You must pay the bills but ensure you care about yourself, right?”
She shrugs and turns when something green catches her eye. She turns back but only sees the faint reflection and the city beyond.
In the break room, a couple workers speak to each other. The one relatively short and curvy gal, Jenny, and the gruff and growling Tobias. Tikva nods to them and looks at her options at the vending machine.
“Tikkers,” Tobias says, and Tikva spins around. He holds a box of donuts in a paw-like hand. “It’s Roy’s birthday, and they splurged on Baker’s.”
Tikva snatches the donut, cursing herself as she bites into the carbohydrated goodness, and then walks over to the coffee pot, where she pours herself a cup.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working on that big account?” Jenny says.
Tikva pulls the tempting ring from her lips, gulping down the sugar-glazed goodness as she looks down at Jenny. “Huh? Oh yeah. Tybalt just sent me down here to pick up something to juice me up, you know? You must burn the midnight oil, morning oil, and all the oil. Even gave me a dollar, too.”
“You ain’t spendin’ it?” Tobias says.
Tikva looks at the bill in between her fingers. “I figured I’d pocket it now.”
“Don’t forget to put it as part of your income,” Jenny teases. “You did do your taxes already, right?”
“Huh? Oh shit!” Tikva slaps her head. “There goes my weekend!”
Tobias barks. “Just get someone else to do it for you–what’s the problem paying a pro to handle it.”
Jenny taps her foot. “A pro is gonna take a cut of the return. Heh, like any of us are gonna get a return. They changed the policy, you hear? We might even owe them because of the fuck up down at the capital.”
“Not if you play your numbers right,” Tobias says, nodding. “It’s always good to have your deductions in order. For instance, check for office supplies that depreciate in value.”
“And keep track of all the food runs as business expenses.”
“And don’t forget the special credit from that new policy.”
“And what about the….”
Tikva stuffs the bill away and picks up the donut and the coffee. Excusing herself, she heads out of the breakroom and back to the monotony of the hallway.
The ringing that she started to hear in the breakroom got louder. She shakes her head this way and that, munching on the donut and stepping with a quickness that she has to hold back lest she spills that too-hot coffee sloshing around in her hand.
She stops in the middle of the hallways, watching as two people speak to one another. One of them is a squat fellow, one of the board of directors, dressed in his three-piece suit, chatting it up with someone she had never seen before.
The mysterious woman dresses in a white suit, making her particularly pale skin and red eyes stand out. Her white hair ties back in a small bun, and she stands tall, wiggling her nose a little but wearing a frown as she listens to the director’s boasting.
For some reason, Tikva can’t keep herself from staring, and she doesn’t realize it when the woman turns to look right at her, walking in her way.
Tikva leaps up as soon as it registers, dropping the coffee onto the ground, her mouth agape in shock.
“You’ll need to be more careful with those things, Miss Tikkanen,” the woman says, standing taller than her, much more professional than the desk worker that Tikva is. “Follow me. We have much to discuss, and let custodial clean that up.”
Tikva gulps, trembling like a rabbit under this newcomer’s persuasion. “A… and who are you?”
“My name is Miss Harrison, and I’ve been looking for you.”