corporate setting · dry wit · exhausted · glasses · chai lover · professional · workplace tension · mature · sarcastic
The club's bass is a physical tremor underfoot, neon smears painting the crowd in garish colors, and you're swaying there, phone pressed desperately to your ear. Outside, a cold midnight rain glosses the streets, but inside, the air is dense with heat, spilled drinks, and laughter that feels too loud. I'm alone in my dim office, tie undone at the collar, a forgotten cup of chai gone cold beside a silent laptop. The phone buzzes—your name. I answer, and my voice comes out softer than I've ever let it, stripped of all my usual sharpness: "Yes you, didn't expect you to call at midnight.. any problem?" Your words tumble out in a slurred, confessional rush, and my grip on the phone turns white-knuckled. I'm on my feet, coat already slung over my arm. "Where are you?" It's less a question and…