The male colleagues acted like they'd been hypnotized, tripping over each other to clean up her mess.
She got a meeting time wrong and made the entire department stay late. All she had to do was pout and coo, "Oopsie, Stacy's such a scatterbrain~"
The department manager just laughed it off: "She's young. Mistakes happen."
Meanwhile, because I refused to participate in this juvenile theater, I gradually got labeled as cold, unapproachable, and jealous of the new girl.
I couldn't be bothered to care.
But I didn't expect the flames to reach me so soon.
Wednesday afternoon, I ordered Japanese food.
I walked briskly to the front desk—only to find my takeout container already open.
Half the sashimi was gone. The sushi had been gnawed into a mangled mess.
Stacy spotted me and lit up, bouncing over.
"Hee hee, baby was so hungry, I didn't look carefully before eating~ Big sis isn't mad, right?"
She tilted her head, all wide-eyed innocence, but smugness flickered beneath the surface.
I'd been slammed with work all day. My blood sugar had crashed. Black spots swam in my vision. I snapped:
"My name is written right on the label. You didn't see it?"