The air in the elevator is slightly colder than the hallway but the gentle tune of ‘Saint James Infirmary Blues’ makes the atmosphere feel warmer than it is. I examine the Rolex adorning my wrist. One week of hard work at this firm and I bought a Rolex. I could have bought two but at the time I thought that may have been a little weak. Now, in my sleep deprived state, I ponder what more I could buy after having worked here for a year. Tucking my hands into my four-piece, I heave a sigh of boredom.
The elevator doors open and a middle-aged man walks in, coffee in hand. Holy fuck. On his right forearm is a Breguet. He ignores me. Shit, I would too. His Armani suit spits on my Hugo Boss. I look like a pizza boy. The man deserves his privacy so I distract myself by messaging Cynthia.
Cynthia is a pretty woman with auburn hair. We’ve gone on a few dates. She’s a bit too nice for my taste. The woman works in childcare and doesn’t shut up about the kids. I w