Romans & histoires Office Obsession

THE DISCOVERY Time flew so fast,but to Ruth it was stagnant.She was under house arrest for two months,she didn't have a glimpse of what the outside world looks like,the party she found absurd was having to see what's going on in the internet because of her cell phone Rita took against her will. Her physical appearance began to increase rapidly, Rita noticed all of this and unfortunate thoughts began to course through her,she wouldn't even imagine what she was thinking to come to reality,so she died off the matters and moved on.

I’m going mad, replaying that scene in my head like some sort of masochistic idiot. The crazy part? I’m not even sure why. Flora Roberts, the shy, unassuming office assistant, is not the type of woman I typically go for. Hell, she would probably think I’m insane if she ever got a glimpse of the thoughts swirling in my head. This obsession is ridiculous. And yet, it’s there.

he growled, confusion and irritation mixing in his tone. She stepped fully into view, her black-sleeved dress hugging her curves perfectly — sleek, modern, almost daring in its simplicity. It contrasted sharply with the ancient grandeur of the temple. “It’s called being modern,” she replied, her lips curling into a sly smile. “But you wouldn’t know, would you? Sleeping for six hundred years tends to keep you out of the loop.” His golden eyes narrowed,“I’m not here to chitchat, Isis,” he growled. “Tell me… why did you tie me down to that stupid human?”

Mark had not been able to pinpoint the exact moment it began, this unsettling obsession with Teresa that was corroding his entire being. The constantly staring, the noticing, the almost strategic tracking of her every movement. Perhaps the obsession had truly ignited when he stumbled upon that discreetly recorded footage, and decided to keep a copy for himself, such a private moment where she had dared to moan his name, while her hand was forming a secret caress between her legs, right there in his office chair.

Obsession doesn’t announce itself with sirens. It seeps in quietly, like water under a locked door, until the floor you stand on warps and bends beneath you. For Rose, it began with little things. A text at odd hours, not of endearment but of command. Don’t go in tonight. Meet me instead. Wear the black dress.

He wants everything perfect and no inaccuracies around him. I actually don't know why I ended up this long. Cause the secretary before me only lasted two hours and was dismissed right away. Just because of a mistake of putting the mug on his table that is not aligned properly. He is crazy, right? A mad perfectionist. But I desperately need this Job. So I performed well, and luckily we both had OCD - Obsessive Compulsive Disorder [mental-illness which causes people to repeat certain thoughts or sensations (obsessions) or have the urge to do something repeatedly (compulsion). Some can have both obsessions and compulsions], but he is more severe.

Will Elysia raise an eyebrow when she notices the shine of the counters and the scent of bleach still hanging in the air? Uneasy, I tug a chair away from the table, leaving it slightly crooked in a ridiculous attempt to make the space look less polished. But the imbalance gnaws at me. The overwhelming smell of bleach clings to my mouth, making the back of my throat burn. The washing machine finishes its cycle with a triumphant hum, and I turn toward it—but halfway there, I stop. I can’t leave the chair askew. I spin back around and straighten it again, the need for symmetry overpowering. Maybe I am obsessive, but I need this control. I need the distraction, something to keep my hands and my

Because instead of forgetting, instead of letting it fade into something insignificant, I become obsessed. With it…. With the why? With the how? With The Who? I become obsessed with the curiosity of unraveling it all and the more I try to rationalize it, the more It sits at the back of my mind like an itch I can’t scratch, it’s quiet at first when I try to suppress it but then it’s loud, it becomes louder and louder as if it’s clawing at the seams of my sanity until it’s all I can think about in between sentences, in between breaths, in between pretending I’m fine.

he replies. “Obsessed how?” I inquire. I had thought I was doing a good job of not showing obsessive behavior when it came to Ava. “You haven’t shown interest in anything that doesn’t involve her. You are actively being hunted by one of the city's largest crime bosses and you’re treating him like a peeping tom. She’s become the only reason you go to bed at night and get up every morning. In my line of work, we call that obsessive,” he concludes with a nod.

I imagine her name is Isabelle. Isabelle, it's soft, and it's light. If I observe the elegance of her step, I see the lightness in it, that of someone who has left their worries at the office. A wild thought comes to me. Could Isabelle be unfaithful to her man? A small, nothing but mini infidelity of nothing at all. It would be a nice one but quickly forgotten because her man is waiting for her at home. Would she feel guilty like the regrets that gnaw at me? But basically, if I analyze: why have remorse? What are they here for? It was me the day before. I don't think it was a dream. It was my hands that were playing with this new body. I could not have dreamed of a better moment. Or if so, c