James was a calm, cool, and collected man. He was laid-back; he went with the flow and whatnot. In his short 28 years of living, James had relatively few things to worry about. His job paid well, so he lived somewhat comfortably, he had a steady girlfriend and a lot of good friends and loving family. No, James rarely ever had anything to worry about; so he never did.

Until this morning. When James woke up, he thought it was going to be a good day. The sun was out, the birds were chirping (not like he paid attention to that or anything), and the night before he had made passionate love to his girlfriend. All in all, James felt good.

That feeling lasted until about nine o’clock in the morning, when Bette Porter, his boss, walked into the office two weeks earlier than she was supposed to, and looking more tired and stressed than she had before she left.

James had been lounging at his desk, his feet resting on the desk as he reclined in his office chair, drinking French vanilla flavored coffee and reading the newspaper when Bette walked in.

“James, I need all of my messages on my desk, now!” Bette ordered both sternly and loudly, making James jump and spill the still steaming coffee on his shirt. She walked right into her office and slammed the door shut without looking back.

“Shit!” He hissed, tossing the newspaper aside and grabbing some extra tissues he had on his desk. He wiped the stain furiously, but the tissues did nothing. Sighing in defeat, James grabbed the three measly messages Bette had and brought them to her office.

He knocked on the door gently, flinching at the gruff “Come in” that came from the other side. Something was different. Something was wrong with her. Why the hell was she back so soon? Hadn’t she taken three weeks off? Why would she come back two weeks early? James slid open the door, clearing his throat before he spoke.

“Uh-uhyou have o-only three messages.” He stammered, placing the messages on Bette’s desk. Bette nodded, acknowledging his presence, but she didn’t take her eyes away from her laptop, which she was furiously typing away on.