Today marks two weeks of no air conditioning in my office.
They don’t know what happened, or why my box-sized, shoved-in-the-back-corner office was the only room affected. It wouldn’t be a problem if the world wasn’t on fire outside my window, but it is, so Amazon delivered to me a small battery powered fan, and my long sleeved dress shirts have been shoved to the back of my closet. Hair ties are especially useful, too, even though I don’t love how bald they make me look. Function over fashion is this month’s motto.
A gust of cool wind rushes in when my door flings open. Justin has never bothered to knock before; I don’t know why he would start now. “Why do you keep this closed? Everyone else has theirs open.”
Seeing someone with good posture reminds me of my bad posture. When I lift my sticky arms to stretch, my back cracks in three places. Maybe I should get one of those standing desks and a walking pad. It might do wonders for my grandma back. “The fan’s more effective with it closed.”
“Whatever you say,” he fans a hand at me. His voice doesn’t match his face. His features are dark and bold and his voice is… what, squirrely? That feels rude, but I can’t think of a better way to put it. “Almost done for the day?”
