Malcolm walked slowly into the office, his coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the paper cup. It’s hump day Wednesday, and he could feel the weight of the week pressing down on him. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly glow on the gray cubicles. He glanced at the clock—9:15 AM. The day had barely begun, and already he longed for the weekend.
His inbox overflowed with urgent texts, calls and emails, each one demanding his attention. Reports, deadlines, and requests piled up like unfolded clothes out the dryer. Malcolm sighed, rubbing his head. He needed a break, a moment of peace away from the relentless notifications.
Ignoring the buzzing phone in his pocket, he slipped into the break room. The coffee machine gurgled, and he poured himself another cup. As he stirred in sugar, he contemplated turning off his phone. Just a temporary escape from the chaos. He could blame it on poor reception or a dead battery. No one would know.
Stacy's name flashed on the screen. Malcolm hesitated, then silenced the call. She'd been relentless lately, convinced he was avoiding her. They'd been dating for a few months, but lately, the spark was dying out. He needed space, time to think. Stacy, however, interpreted his silence as betrayal.
He returned to his desk, phone still off. The emails multiplied like rabbits. Malcolm squinted at the screen, wondering if he could fake a sudden illness. But then the office door swung open, and there stood his boss, Mr. Harrington, clipboard in hand.
"Malcolm," Mr. Harrington said, his voice as dry with the smell of cigarette and coffee when he talks cycling in air. "I need those Financial reports by noon."
Malcolm nodded, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Financial reports—the bane of his existence. He'd rather wrestle a grizzly bear than compile those mind-numbing spreadsheets.
As the day wore on, Malcolm's patience was running thin. Malcom voicemails piled up, each one more convincing than the last. She thought he was cheating, sneaking off with someone else during office hours. The truth was far less exciting: he was drowning in Excel formulas and corporate jargon.
At 3:30 PM, Malcolm clocked out of work. He powered off his phone, shoved it into his pocket, and left the office. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the parking lot. He needed a breather, a moment to recalibrate.
But fate had other plans. As Malcolm walked out of the building, he heard a familiar voice. Stacy. She stood by his car, fists clenched, eyes blazing. Her fiery redbone figure framed her furious expression.
"Malcolm!" she shouted. "You coward!"
He froze, caught between panic and irritation. "Stacy, I—"
"You think I'm stupid?" she replied. "You're with someone else, aren't you?"
Malcolm's mind raced. He glanced at her car, parked innocently in garage parking lot. Malcolm noticing Stacy’s erratic behavior he walked towards his car avoiding Stacy’s confrontation. Stacy's sees Malcolm walking towards his car and rage escalated. “I know you hear me talking to you Malcolm”. He ignores her and gets in his car and drove off. Little did he know she was not far behind him.
Malcolm made home parking his car under his carport. Went inside his house and gotten undressed for a nice hot shower. While in the shower Stacy pulled up to his house and started beating on his door. “I know you in there Malcolm be a man and open the door”. Stacy started knocking on his windows to get Malcolm to open the door. With the music playing and Malcolm enjoying his hot shower didn’t hear anybody knocking on his door.
Stacy was getting madder by the second. Minutes has passed by and still no answer. Without thinking, she picked up a brick that was around Malcom flower bed in the front yard and threw it at the car window. Shattered glass exploded inside and outside the car. Stacy walked back and sat in car and waited to see if Malcolm heard the brick going through his car window.
While sitting in her car she sent him a ton of nasty voicemails and messages. With his phone buzzed back to life, voicemail after voicemail from Stacy. Malcolm ignored it. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Or maybe he'd call in sick and escape to a tropical island. Anything to avoid Stacy and another Wednesday like this.