Werther awoke to his cat, Oregano, booping his nose and meowing. Checking the clock again, if Werther didn’t leave right now, he would be late, by his calculations. He rushed to get dressed and shove some cereal into his mouth, sprinting out of his apartment, and almost throwing himself down the stairwell. Unlocking his car and immediately shoving the keys into the ignition and pressing the clutch into the floor as he got in, he shifted into gear and backed out onto the main road.
Werther breathed a sigh of relief, his console reading that only 6 minutes and 33 seconds had elapsed since he had woken up late. If he kept up this pace, he should be able to just make it.
He didn’t make it. There was an accident on the highway, and he walked into the office an entire 30 minutes late. He knew that he would have to report to The Boss, as he was called, and this simple fact filled him with dread; The Boss did not tolerate tardy employees.
“Hey there, Wert.” his coworker, Darla, turned around and whispered at him when he walked by. “You know you’re late, right? 30 minutes… third time this month.”
“Thank you, Darla, that’s very helpful.”
“Do you remember what he did to Nate? He looked so… off when he came out of the Office. Like his mom had just died, or something…”
“Yeah.”
Nathan Fillingham had gotten into an accident during his commute, totaling his car and leaving him with a nasty case of whiplash, so he had showed up an entire hour after his shift was supposed to start. The Boss was angry, but not explosive. His voice was a dangerous calm, and he had an odd habit of making a weird hissing noise, putting a little too much emphasis on the S.
Nobody knew exactly what had happened inside the Office, but when Nathan came out he seemed lackluster. He just stood there, not moving until someone asked him what happened. He just murmured something and starting gathering his things. Werther remembered helping him. All of his questions were met with unintelligible sounds, and so he just gave up on asking them.
“Good luck.” she turned around once more, resuming her typing.
Werther took a deep breath and gently tapped on the door to The Boss’s office, the only indication of it being such a plaque screwed into the door in simple, golden block letters:
THE BOSS
“You may enter now, Werther Clitt.” a dark, scratchy voice called.
Werther slipped into the room, the only light being a single desk lamp that cast little light on the features of Boss, the only hint as to his appearance being a broad, rounded nose and thin, dark lips, with the outlines of a broad forehead. His head was large, almost too large than a man’s head had a right to be.
The reason for why the Boss kept his office so dark was beyond the employees there. Nobody had actually seen his face, even those who had been working there for years. Some rumored that he never went home, that he lived, ate, and slept at the office. It was unsure whether or not he did eat. His name was unknown, and he simply ordered them to call him, “Boss.”
“I, am, ah, terribly sorry- you see- well, there wa-” Werther stammered, before being interrupted.
“Sssit down.” the Boss ordered.
Werther complied.
“I am sure you know why you are here, Clitt.” Boss prompted.
“Yes, Boss.” Werther replied, nervously.
“The third time thisss month.” the Boss stated.
“Yes, Boss.”
“Thisss behaviour can not go unchecked, Clitt. How can I continue to hire an employee who can’t even bother to show up to his job on time?”
“Yes, Boss.” Werther said out of reflex.
“‘Yesss, Bosss.’” the Boss mocked. “Isss that all you can sssay? You sssound like a ssskipping record, Clitt.”
“No, Boss.”
Boss sighed. “At leassst you have ressspect, I can commend you for that.” He leaned forward, just barely revealing his now half-open, scowling eyes that Werther never realized were closed. What he saw in those eyes was almost… inhuman. They were a solid blue, seeming to fade to a lighter shade in the middle. Werther could lose himself in them, if he continued staring too long.
“The truth isss, you are an efficient employee and a diligent worker. You don’t asssk quesstions, you don’t asssk for a raisse, you just do your job and go home. You do not… annoy me. Pleassse do not fail to arrive on time again, Werther. You know that the work we do isss important.” Werther heard the creak of the chair as Boss leaned back once more, closing his eyes and breathing out.
“And you will not ssspeak about what you sssaw in here today. Am I correct in this ssstatement, Werther Clitt?” Boss prompted,
“Y-yes, Boss.” Werther replied, hurriedly standing up to leave.
“Return to your ssstation and resume work. Close the door on your way out.”
Werther breathed a sigh of relief as he gently shut the door to Boss’s office.
That was close. He thought about what Boss had said. He thought about what Boss had done. He thought about what had happened today in the office, and he knew that it would never be the same after this.
As he was walking back to his cubicle, Darla leaned back again. “So, when do you leave?”
“You might not believe it, but he gave me another chance.” Werther replied ecstatically.
Darla blinked. “Huh, didn’t think that would happen. You know how lucky you are, right? Take care, Wert.” She went back to work, taking a sip of coffee.
Werther continued onwards, sitting down and powering up his computer. Today would be short.
Eight hours later, Werther collapsed onto his bed, not even bothering to drag a blanket over himself or undress. When he got home he had taken only the time to make a pot of Ramen noodles, to satisfy his other biological need. Those eight hours had been the longest of his life; Exhaustion was his fever, and the only cure was more sleep.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Ugh. Werther thought. Will you shut up?
He groped to turn off his alarm clock, missing and instead knocking a box of tissues across the room. He reached again, successfully smacking the sleep button, but the beeping still didn’t go off. Sniffing, he frowned. Was that smoke? Bolting up in bed, his eyes flew open as he scanned the room. He noted the time, 02:47, and swiftly got out of bed, running to his door and grabbing the door handle.
He let go in shock; the handle was hot.
My apartment is on fire… Werther thought. The thought came as first a trickle, then a rushing river, until his brain processed it and the words reached his mouth.
“My apartment is on fire!” Werther exclaimed, grabbing an old shirt, wrapping it around the handle, and throwing open the door, where he was met by a wave of heat and a raging inferno.
He had left the stove on. The kitchen had been consumed by flames… where the fire extinguisher was. He needed to act quickly. There was no saving his apartment, now. Running frantically through the room, grabbing a backpack, he started shoving things inside; His cash he kept around the house, a blanket and a pillow, a bottled water, and an assortment of other important objects. He scooped his cat up as well, fleeing his apartment.
Running down the stairs, he burst outside to find… nobody. He had expected fire crews, or perhaps some curious onlookers. But there was not a soul in sight. A single plastic bag wafted through the parking lot, rustling lonesomely.
He whipped out his cell, only for there to be no service. Closing the flip phone, he shakily unlocked his car to have a seat and to toss his bag in the back seat. He put Oregano down in the passenger seat next to him, the cat meowing and climbing into his lap, where she received methodic strokes.
Werther had nowhere to go when his building burned down. He was now homeless. At least he had a car, and a few things, here and there, but he knew this couldn’t last. He sat there, clutching his cat and what possessions he had left, rocking back and forth.
Werther had no idea what to do, and it scared him.