"I'm sorry, a what?"
"An executive financial director!"
I excuse myself and dart straight to the table. What was I expecting? I grab one in each hand, two more to come. Maybe the bubbles will make it bearable. Goodbye, grating, scraping, solid reality. Please, please wash away now.
All four slide down my throat as I toss them back, one after the other. I cough, I sputter, I catch my breath. They aren't helping. I close my eyes, hoping to disappear. I wish for some sort of catastrophe -- an earthquake, a hurricane, anything. I want an interruption, something huge. Something to stop it all.
I sigh, pick up another glass, and stagger back to my seat.
Produced by: Jove
Title: Two
Notes: based on a false story
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