DailyFlash: The Boss

I wonder how much longer he can keep up the pretense. How much longer before everyone heeds my words of warning about him. He's not on the level I tell them: Pat in Accounts, who just nods and types away with fingers that never stop moving; the warehouse operatives going about their heavy lifting, grunting dismissively and lumbering around in their steel-toe-capped boots; the Sales team jabbering with one ear on the customer and the other on the gossip. You're in danger, I try to tell them. The Boss has flipped and you need to get out. But they can't hear me. My old office in the basement is locked. I messed up sure, and received my final notice. But I messed up again and got my marching orders; a pair of hands around my throat. We can merge your department with Marketing, the Boss said, to himself more than me. Yes, moving with the times, he said. He has cold hands, I shriek now, but no one comes down here any more.