Egghead started calling her Mother’s mother by her legal name the day she decided the woman needed to die. Note 16
Rosie’s hands showed every extra she did for the team. The veins they wore mapped out a need for retirement or a least stiff drink. She kept them in her pockets during the morning meeting because she couldn’t shake her fists loose. They were tight balls of anger she did not want to share with management. Running tongue over her broken crown, she managed a plausibly peaceful salutation, nodding her head to each associate. Most of them were leaning against the wall or slouching on the bench outside of H.R. Rosie cocked her head, none of them could carry the fight beyond the whines of lunchroom complaints. She scanned them all wanting, needing an alai. No one gave her their eye, instead they examined the floor. Even Alice, the other Silver Sales Associate, adjusted and readjusted her name tag.
Jerry set his reports down on the counter. “Alright everyone, who wants to lead the morning cheer?”
Rosie slipped behind Carl. Even though Carl had lost almost seventy-five pounds, he could still hide an old lady. Jerry wasn’t even looking at Carl when he picked Rosie. Rosie took a deep breath, she needed this job more than ever now and that Jerry knew it.
Oh he just needs to die,
That thought slipped out between the teeth of her anger. She shoved her tongue between her molars to prevent more bite. She had promised the lord in heaven that she would never think a thought like that again. She knew better, her thoughts had powers she couldn’t control. The guilt and shock of her own indiscretion slapped her back into servitude. With her hands free and her limbs loose, she lead the lost souls of discount retail in the chicken dance which studies have shown enhances morale.
- Walking a Hot Mile (aelasage.com)