CHAPTER 6: BACK TO DIRT.

JANE'S POV.

The door slammed shut behind me, and I didn’t even bother locking it. I was sucked all dry from work and I hated how they made me feel so stupid. 

Those irresponsible idiots!

My bag flew from my hand and landed on the couch, much rash. I didn’t even wait to see where it landed before dragging myself to the kitchen. 

My feet hurt, my back ached, and I had a volcano of frustration sitting right between my eyebrows.

I brewed the fastest, strongest cup of coffee my poor machine could manage and stood there, staring into space and my black coffee wondering why love would be so cruel. One sip in, and I dropped right onto the rug in the living room. I didn’t make it to the bed. I was too exhausted to have to lift any finger again.

Next thing I knew, it was dark outside, the cup was cold in my hand, and my body felt like I had been hit by the company printer.

And then I realized.... I. Had. Quit.

I slapped my forehead. “You stupid, dramatic, emotionally unstable IDIOT.”

I quit because of some dusty documents and a make out session I walked in on? Really? And then what? Sit at home broke and proud? I can’t even afford pride.

I stood up, stretched out the crackling bones in my back, and walked straight to my desk. If anyone was going to eat shit tomorrow, it was going to be served with grace and swallowed with a smile. I opened my laptop and stared at the blank email screen for ten minutes before typing.

__

Subject: Sincere Apologies

Dear Mrs. Hart,

I’m writing to express my sincere apologies for my earlier behavior. I allowed my emotions to get the better of me and acted impulsively. I deeply regret walking out and would appreciate the opportunity to return and make things right.

Thank you for your understanding.

Best regards,

Jane Shane

---

It hurt like swallowing nails. But I hit send before my pride covered me up.

The next morning, I showed up looking like a motivational quote. Neatly dressed, my hair brushed and a lip balm on. Whereas, I was burning inside. 

Jessica Hart. The vice president, fiancee of my absolutely wicked boss, called me in after I reached my highest point of shame which was searching for her all around. 

“I got your mail, ugly face. You want your job back?” she asked, and smiled. One that was obviously a mockery of the shame they've made of me.

I nodded, swallowing my pride that was nugging to get out.

“Good. You can start by scrubbing the toilets. Go work with the cleaning staff today. Once you’re done, you can return to your desk.”

I stood there for a second, waiting for the punchline. 

But it was all useless. She meant it. I was going to be cleaning with the janitors? 

I saw the satisfaction in her eyes, clearly. 

"What? Why do you look at me like that? You don’t walk out and waltz back in without licking the dirt on your way."

I nodded like a robot and stammered. “No ma'am... uh...Yes, ma’am.”

On my way to the janitor’s closet, I almost collided with a tall wall of perfection.

“Mr Reilly?” I said his name before I could stop myself, almost choking on it.

He turned and looked at me. “Miss Shane. Why are you here? I thought you quit.”

“I...uh... I didn't. I mean, I kind of...technically...but not really.” I sounded like someone who just learned English five minutes ago. “I talked to Mrs. Hart. She... she let me back in.”

I could see the question in his eyes, he wanted to know why I had come back. But I didn't want to speak any more words. 

Luckily, Mrs Hart appeared. 

“She’s back,” she told him sweetly, wrapping her hand around his arm like I wasn’t standing right there. “I told her to clean the company toilets today. As punishment.”

Kennedy looked at me, then he nodded once and walked away with her.

He couldn't even say something or have sympathy. I stood there, watching them leave like the pathetic ex that I wasn’t even.

“God,” I muttered under my breath, “I hate both of you.”

I turned toward the janitor’s room and grabbed a mop with the grace of a queen.

“Fuck brokenness,” I whispered as I rolled up my sleeves.