"Get Out!!" she shouted. She was shocked at the gall of these imbeciles who dare. Unbelievable!! Like she did not have enough to do already. This was the anti-climax to the strange feeling she had through her walk to the office.
At first it was like any other morning. Nothing out of the ordinary. While she waited for the water to boil, she sat at the dining table, talked to Ms Ayoola. A name that meant wealth and prosperity which she craved for and had rightfully earned. She wondered if Ms Ayoola, the money plant had brought her the luck.
The more she talked to the plant, the more the plant grew, overflowing on her table and she pictured the leaves to be money. Think positive. Believe. She worked hard at Believing, the Law of Attraction, the Feeling, the Now.... But she knew it also required action and there was no lack of action on her part.
Every morning without fail, same as this morning. the kettle whistled on cue. Something about the routine prepared for the day. She didn't care for the electric kettle she got from Secret Santa last year. She loved the sound of the water reaching a boil before the whistle. It was like On Your Marks, Get Set.... prrrrrrrrrrtttttt for the day.
Walking into the office, something was amiss. Her staff, who knew she expected a greeting, never failed to wish her. Today they were avoiding making eye contact. She knew they didn't really like her but they liked the bonuses and the pay rise. So they never failed to greet her. The strange feeling got stronger.
She wasn't here to be liked. She wasn't here to make friends. She was here to win. A magazine didn't write itself. Dead lines didn't disappear because you had a migraine. Readers didn't wait in empathy while you got your shit together. No!!! They buy another magazine and move on.
It's a dog eat dog world. Nobody cared for your sob stories except maybe to use it as an opportunity to present themselves as better, while using your faults and limitations as stepping stones.
She walked straight into her office. The office that she had earned through sheer blood, sweat and tears. Sleepless nights, cut throat deals, manipulation, negotiations, anything to get the story and sell the magazine.
She stopped short two steps into her room. Her fury took over the strange feeling. These twats were unbelievable!!! How dare they?!!
"Get Out!!" she shouted. But her PA Karen ignored her as if she wasn't there. She was in a serious discussion with Shah, the Content Manager for the other magazine at the Publishing house.
She was ready to blow. They had no right to be in her room, not without her. She strutted in to literally push them out when she heard bits and pieces of the conversation, her fury subsided to realization.
".... can't believe..... never know...... fatality.....who best....the police....the family....so sad.... "
This is my Free Write for the prompt Fatality. If you don't know what a Free Write is, then in a nutshell, you are given a daily prompt by 
Till We Meet Again Over Text, Pics, Videos, Maybe Even Coffee ....
@SteemitBloggers | @SteemitMamas | @TheAlliance | @FreeWriteHouse | @Qurator
