Just Fix It

Charles raced back to the office, boiling with indignation and rage. Was he being played here somehow, was this some hackers idea of a joke? There was a message waiting for him when he got back. Shannon. He all but broke his mouse opening the message.

Charles, I know this seems a little unusual and it probably is but I was hoping perhaps, as one professional to another, that maybe you could do me this one small favor. I‘m on my own here Charles, literally and figuratively. The place was flooded out last week and I’m working out of my basement. It’s the same old story, produce or go home. I haven’t been producing lately but I can’t afford to go home either. PLEASE help me out with this.

Charles was no white knight. He knew that. All his life he had been the nerdy rules player with the braces, sticking to those rules like glue in order to make sure things went the right way. That’s how he wanted things and up until now, that’s how things had been going. Women didn’t figure prominently in his life because they didn’t play by the rules, too emotional and unpredictable. A woman in distress was not something they’d covered in night school.

The chime sounded even as he sat there, steaming mad but uncertain what to do.

Charles, you haven’t replied to my last email yet. I just want to be sure you got it and really understand what’s going on here. Look I promise, I will fix everything Friday afternoon. You’re doing me a real big favor by doing this. Sally (that’s my kid) gets her braces off tomorrow and grad is on the weekend so she is just flying right now. Won’t be the dorky kid in braces! I can’t thank you enough for this. Shannon.

Braces? Kids? What, like he was born yesterday? His right hand absent-mindedly touched his teeth in thought. He’d worn his own all through high school. Metal mouth, brace brain, he’d heard them all. And got beat up for it more than once. That’s why he’d gone to night school for his degree. Those students were older and more mature, and more accepting.





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