Chantelle

It had been two weeks since I last had to interact with him directly, and there had been no further conflicts with other women. It had been a peaceful two weeks with him barely showing up at the office.

I started doing most of my reports from the lunchroom; nobody questioned me since the Wi-Fi was better there anyway.

Every time I had to go into his office, I noticed something new. A lipstick-stained glass. A half-empty bottle of whisky.

And lately, condom wrappers—not hidden, just ...