Harley~ Whoever said one can't survive on black coffee and the occasional cracking of the back was lying. I have always been a workaholic, it's true, and I work best when I am focused on a task. However, my stress and aggravation levels lately have been way too high, and I can do without them. When I didn't even see, hear, or smell creepy Carl, the janitor, until he was breathing down my neck, I knew exhaustion and sleep deprivation had me slipping. Carl makes my skin crawl, so of course, we would wind up alone in the break room."Burning the midnight oil again, sweetheart?" He asked.His pretentiousness, as he propped himself against the water cooler, had my eyes rolling of their own accord. Carl, two decades my senior, possesses a physique of equal height and breadth; a visage best suited for radio. However, he harbors an over-inflated sense of the ladies' man he perceives himself to be."Yeah, you know me, same old Carl," I said.He raised his bushy, unkempt eyebrows at me sugges
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