I felt weak, but a sliver of rationality pushed through. "It's late, Mr. Brown. I've got work in the morning. I better head back."
I turned and ran up the stairs, heart pounding. He didn't follow.
Sleep eluded me all night.
The next day, work felt like any other, except I couldn't quite meet Mr. Brown's eyes. When I passed him documents, my head was down, my hands careful.
Thinking about last night's antics still had me cringing.
Mr. Brown, however, acted like it was just another day. He seemed more attentive but never mentioned that night again.
Maybe I thought there was something there, but perhaps it was all in my head.
I felt like a Cinderella—only without any luck. Fairy tales? Not for me.
As expected, after my internship, I was kept on as Mr. Brown's assistant.
During a company dinner, I suddenly felt nauseous and excused myself to throw up.
Right then, my phone rang—it was my dad. Annoyed, I hung up. He called back immediately. Reluctantly, I answered, "What's up? I'm kind of busy here!"
Surprisingly, his tone was soft, almost pleading, "Kelly, do you have any cash to spare? Could you lend your dad some?"
"What about the money from Mom's funeral?" I countered sharply.