Betty

God, Betty was annoying. Always going on about her boyfriend in college. Always clipping her nails just so. Clip, clip, clip. Every morning. Like we didn’t have better things to do at our desks. Some of us like to work for a living. Then her phone would go off and she’d answer in that oh-so-perfect sing-song like she lived here and loved it and she would be so very happy to help you.

How did everyone else stand it? Sasha had no idea. She was probably sleeping with someone to stay around, boyfriend or no. It was the only explanation.

Sasha nursed her terrible break-room coffee, focusing on the need for caffeine to keep it down. Nobody liked working in a call center. She was just there to pay the bills, same as everyone there. But there were standards to be followed, by God. You didn’t just go flouncing around like you owned the world in a place like this. You kept your head down, did what you had to, and collected your check every two weeks.

There was something seriously off about that girl. That morning, Sasha determined that she was going to figure out exactly what.

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