Tuesday
I sometimes go for a run at lunch. Unfortunately, I have to pass by Ned’s open office door to go outside. I have found myself tiptoeing by, silent as a cat, to avoid his righteous glare. Sometimes, I’ll wait until I hear him on the phone, his focus elsewhere, just to improve my chances of passing by undetected. Today, again, I failed. As I open the door to go outside, I hear him say this steadily, and with a quiet contempt: “Must be nice to be able to go for a run whenever you want.”
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