What the fuck, I thought, watching with growing panic as Melissa and the guy from the truck, some contractor, disappeared, off down the path that led into the little garden trails, the little preserve next to the building. What the hell are they doing..?
And was she holding his hand?!?
Envy was not a familiar feeling to me, so I barely recognized the taste of it, at first. Acrid, bitter, burning my throat. That shouldn’t be him! was all I could think, already full of self-reproach, That should be me!!
I knew I wasn’t thinking clearly, I knew I was reacting poorly, in too much of a panic. I hadn’t slept much at all, with all the noise and the shaking. Construction on the building - which seemed to be below me, all around me as I huddled in my lonely bed - went on continuously, without a break, all through the night. More intense, it seemed, even, than throughout the day. What sort of operation was this??
Anyway, my temper burned now not for the construction, the state of my office, but rather for what was now possibly happening behind some bushes, amongst the shrubbery. Is that ‘her type’? That guy? Tall, tattooed, shaven-head?
She wouldn’t...would she??