Whit's Hours Novels & Stories

Felix quickly answered. "What?! You want to be a mailman?" Simon was shocked and even got his food out from his mouth when he heard what Felix said. He wasn't expecting Felix to say that he wanted to apply for a job as a mailman. Simon was a working in an office but not as a manager but as a mailman. He has been working for 10 years since their business got bankrupt and their company got taken away by the bank. It started their unfortunate happenings when her wife Betty decided to bring home Felix to their house.

It was so hot. In winter, the sun rose late. With the snow and overcast skies, it was barely light at eight o’clock. The lights had to be turned on inside the house. Whitney didn't know what to do. She picked up a book and started reading, not paying attention to the time. She kept on reading until Millie called her. "Are you up, Whitney? It’s time for breakfast." She quickly opened the door and went out.

Nothing could have prepared me nor taken away from anything that happened yesterday. "It was pretty amazing, wasn't it?" Whitney puts her hand on her stomach before she bends over and grabs the toothpaste, doing her morning rituals. "Amazing isn't the word for it, but either way, I'm glad to work my sixth day in a row if it let me be there for you and her."

10:00 AM - 11:00 AM: Deep Work (No Distractions) 11:00 AM - 11:15 AM: Focus Break (Stimulation Level 1) "Clock starts now," Echo says. "Get to work." I work. Surprisingly, the promise of a "break" lights a fire under my ass. I crush the logo design. I fix the typography. At 11:00 AM sharp, my screen dims. "Pens down," Echo commands. "Time for your reward." The smart lights in my office shift to a deep violet.

Lizzy’s POV After the beach trip, I never saw Steven again. The working hours where I worked were divided into two. We used to call them the morning shift and the night shift. The morning shift works from nine in the morning until three in the afternoon, and the night shift works from three in the afternoon until nine at night. Each employee gets a week to work the morning shift, and a week to work the night shift.

What's with this thing? While looking at it, I remembered something. It's still bothering me, my punch easily caught by him. I didn't put too much force yet he instinctively cached them even without looking cause he is busy pissing me. "The two of you, go back to work!" I brush my hair using my finger and stand. Sam also does the same. My shift ended at 5:00 pm, I cover the working hours that I wasted when Mrs.White preach to me in her office. After my shift, I change my clothes and drove my scooter to my apartment.

What I needed was someone who could reach the Aldren Group’s senior partner through a channel that had nothing to do with the contractual dispute. Not to pressure anyone. Just to have a quiet conversation about what walking away now would actually cost them compared to what staying cost them. Whitmore knew the senior partner. Of course he did. “Give me until Friday,” he said. It was Wednesday afternoon. Thirty-six hours. “Thank you,” I said. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said, and hung up. I spent Thursday doing what you do when you are waiting for something important and

“Since, we’re talking about them. What time is the first set of them coming in?” “Eight. They should be here in-,” Williamson said and looked at his watch. “Twenty minutes. They’re going to work ten-hour shifts. Our men will be on five-hour shifts per watch. The schedule is . . . somewhere on your desk.” Matt was straightening papers as Williamson talked. He wasn’t the neatest desk drone. If he was more organized, maybe the paperwork wouldn’t have driven him crazy. “Names?” “Albertson and Rodriguez.” “During the drive, you just told me about his part in all this. How . . . how did Dalton look? How is he - really?” Matt asked with concern.

"Yes. He arrived at the office at six this morning. He said he had a lot of work to catch up on." Clara felt a small pang of unease. Adrian was dedicated, but six in the morning was extreme even for him. "Is everything all right? He seemed fine when I saw him last." James hesitated for just a fraction of a second. "Everything is fine, Ms. Hayes. Mr. Whitmore is simply... very focused on the rebranding project." "I see." They walked to the elevator together. As the doors closed, Clara's phone dinged with a text message. She glanced at the screen.

“But you spoke to her.” Adrian slowly stood. “What are you talking about?” His assistant hesitated. “Mrs. Whitmore fainted at work.” The room suddenly felt smaller. “Why?” “The doctors said exhaustion.” Another pause. “And stress.” Adrian remained standing. His mind struggled to process the information. “When was this?” “December fifteenth.” His assistant looked at him carefully. “Six months ago.” Adrian stared at him. “How long was she in the hospital?” “Three days.” Three days.