"Is the inventory checklist complete?" My voice was flat, devoid of emotion, as I walked to the machine and brewed a black coffee.
"Not... not yet."
"Then you have time to gossip?" I turned, pinning them with a cold stare.
"I want the confirmation email for all materials and the rehearsal sign-offs in my inbox before 7:00 PM. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Director!"
They scrambled out like frightened mice.
Clutching the warm mug, I stood by the window, watching the stream of traffic below.
Five years ago, this district was a wasteland.
Jonathan and I had huddled in that basement, sharing a single cup of noodles because we couldn't afford two.
I remembered the night he fashioned a ring out of a soda can pull-tab. He had slid it onto my finger with trembling hands.
"When we go public," he had whispered, the dim bulb reflecting in his fervent eyes, "I'll replace this with the real thing. A diamond. The biggest one money can buy."
I had smiled and nodded, but truthfully, I loved that jagged piece of aluminum.
Because back then, I was the only thing in his universe.
My phone buzzed, shattering the memory.
Jonathan: *Dinner with investors tonight. Go home without me. Don't wait up.*