Mr. Oliver

Fear gripped me as I stood outside Mr. Oliver's door, my heart racing with anticipation of what awaited me on the other side. Taking a deep breath, I summoned the courage to knock on the door, my trembling hand barely making contact with the wood.

To my surprise, Mr. Oliver's cold voice invited me in, and I cautiously entered the room. There he sat, hunched over a laptop, his icy gaze fixed on the screen. The table stood in stark contrast, empty save for a vacant space where I placed his desired cup of coffee. As I nervously began pouring the liquid from the jug, my hands betrayed my anxiety, causing droplets to splash onto the porcelain.

His eyes, like piercing emeralds, bore into my soul, and I could practically feel his disdain emanating from him. "I know you're not what you pretend to be," he sneered, his voice laced with disdain. "I despise people like you, trying to put on a façade. It's pathetic." His words hit me like a slap to the face, and my anxiety intensified.

As I lowere