Why So Emotional?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Some bad language and adult-ish situations.

Another little flash, this one, however, was based on something that actually happened (with a bit of artistic license).

Submitted: December 08, 2008

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Submitted: December 08, 2008

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Why So Emotional?
The tears came unexpectedly, just as they always do. I lift my book in hopes of covering my face, hiding from the reality of what is instead of what should be.
That voice finds me anyway. The one belonging to my boss. Friendly, polite, but overly nosy. Needy. Expecting answers to things that just simply aren’t any of her business.
“You okay, Irma?” she asks, moving to the side of my desk, invading my space more completely than I’d like.
I nod, holding up my book. “Sad story is all,” I lie. No need to tell her that it’s a gory, zombie novel after all.
She shrugs, not particularly caring. “Smile, okay?”
No, it’s not okay, not by any stretch of the imagination. My life is falling apart at the seams, but I can’t say so. “Maybe once things are square again,” I mutter, indicating my book once more. She stares at me, expecting me to give in to her silly demands, so I reach for my fourth Twix bar of the afternoon. We won’t go into how many I had before lunch. 
“You really need to smile now,” she insists, all the while imagining that she’s helping me.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I shrug. “Don’t feel like it and it’s not like anyone sees me back here so, why should it matter as long as I’m polite?”
Her stare becomes a menacing glare and I can’t hold back my sigh of frustration. “Look, I get really wrapped up in my books, okay? Often, they can have this affect on me and all I can do is ride it out. I can’t switch my emotions on and off, nor would I want to. With my luck, I’d forget to turn them back on. I can’t and won’t smile on demand. Is there anything work-related you’d like to discuss?”
“Jesus, Irma! Why so damn emotional,” she growls, ticked.
I reach for yet another Twix bar, wondering why they ever stopped making the Cookies & Cream variety. Grimacing as the baby moves in my belly, I lose it. “No idea, Steph. Why are you so cold and demanding these days?” I’ve done it and I know it; I wait for the backlash that never comes.
Her eyes narrow, however, as she again takes my measure. “Just see to it that you do not piss off any of the customers, understand?”
I nod, making nice. As soon as she is no longer within earshot, I growl and rub my belly. I’m answered with a flutter of limbs. I look down and mutter, “I can’t believe you. Not even born yet and already you’re trying to cause me to lose my job. Nice, babe.” Realizing I’m talking to an unborn child, I laugh. “Wonder if they’d leave me the hell alone if I told them about you. No? I didn’t think so either.”


© Copyright 2017 Mika Stevens. All rights reserved.

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