Freedom

Don't mess it up!

It was raining, like yesterday and the day before yesterday. The rain was pattering against the big, dirty windows of the editoral office I used to work in. I leaned against the back of my chair as I watched the drops making their way down, leaving fine lines.

I was torn from my thoughts as my boss cleared his throat. 

"Whats so interresting that you, miss Stewart, apparently think it's more important than the article you're writing?" he said in an unamused voice.

"I am sorry mr. Moore, but I think that we could write about more important things then what the 'Americas Next Top Model' girls eat for breakfast!" I said, before I could stop myself and regretted it almost immediately.

I shut my eyes and raised my shoulders a bit, waiting for him to shout at me.

Mr. Moore was a tall, loud and angry man. Who thinks it's ok to treat women like shit. He always wears a blue button up shirt and his face is marked by almost 15 years of daily drinking. 

He also had a wife that he didn't love and never treated with respect. One time i heard him joke with some other workers in the office that she at least cooks good food. What an asshole. She picks him up from work everyday and she never seems to be happy.

"Oh so you think.." he said in a surprisingly calm voice and then pauses for a few seconds.

"So you think you're too good of a writer to write about something that unimportant?" he asked amused.

I took a few seconds thinking about what  I should say before I answered him.

"Yes, sir." I said with a powerfull and confident voice. 

I may not look like it, but I'm not a weak woman. I know what i want and I know that i won't get it when I never take my opportunitys.

"Well, ok then. If you think you can handle this, then you are going to an interview. That interview is really important. Don't mess it up!" he said before walking away.

I can't believe it! But wait, who am I going to interview?