Chapter One

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I dig my hand into my bag to look for my car keys that play the same disappearing act every single day

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I dig my hand into my bag to look for my car keys that play the same disappearing act every single day. And yet, I don't let myself buy a more efficient bag with multiple pockets, one of which would only carry my keys. Nothing is as frustrating as hearing my keys dangle and still not being able to find them. Actually, there is. Being fired for no good reason results in the same amount of frustration.

I don't know if I even want to get home today. How do I break the news to Terrance? I can already see him threatening to sue HighImpact Accounting. And somehow coming to terms with it a day later. I re-route just to make the drive a little bit longer and get some time to think. I wonder if my life could be anything like the author J.K. Rowling. After all, she too was fired from work because she dreamed too much about creating her fantasy world. The only difference between her and I is that I've been dreaming about something else. Something much vainer, as everyone in my life, would think. My big shot boss, Trevor Davis, told me that I don't belong at HighImpact Accounting. Well then, where do I belong?

Trevor called me into his office when he walked in on me fixing Sarah's eyeliner. I knew in that moment that I was in trouble. But I never thought that he'd fire me. I walked back into Sarah's office to tell her about what had happened. She was good at consoling people. It was one of the reasons why we're so close. I need consolation, all the time. But she failed to make me feel better today.

"Why don't you start a blog?" she asked me. I managed to laugh even though I was pretty shaken up at the time. But she was serious.

"Desiree, why don't you start your own blog? You're good at this stuff!" she repeated herself, hoping that I would take her seriously this time around. I did. And I wish I hadn't. The truth is that I have been spending a significant amount of time trying to perfectly contour my face. It was the one thing I could never get right until last week. I was so proud of myself. But that's all I was. Proud. There was nothing more to it. The reality was still that I was an accountant, working for a boss who couldn't care less about his overworked and under-appreciated employees. But things have changed today. I don't have to care about pleasing him and holding my tongue every time he sends me a bad review for no apparent reason. I'm good at my job. I was... good at my job.

Being a blogger definitely sounds more fun than being a slave. But will it pay the bills? More importantly, will Terrance approve? I certainly don't need his permission but his approval means something to me. He makes 50k a year working as the head chef at a restaurant in Delaware. So in a way, he's an artist himself. That should count for something. He should be able to understand the budding makeup artist in me. The problem, however, is that I make twice as much as he does. Or I used to... an hour ago. My job allowed us to lead a certain kind of lifestyle. How do I tell him that I don't want to work as an accountant anymore? And that we will have to cut back on fine dining and popcorn on movie nights so I can start a blog. He's going to laugh at me. Just as I laughed at Sarah. But I will never find out until I tell him.

I park my car and give myself a few seconds to breathe. This is my way of procrastinating the conversation that I need to have with my husband. I look at the cozy townhouse that we bought just last year. We've been happy here. And comfortable. I start having second thoughts about what I want to say to Terrance so I force myself to get out of the car before I end up changing my mind.

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