Writing Practice

She closed her eyes and forced herself to take a breath.  Patience, she told herself.  Patience.

The problem was that today patience was in short supply.

As if to start the day on a stressful note, her alarm had failed to sound.  Adrenaline may have gotten her ready and to work in record time, but the rush had worn off just as quickly, leaving her wrung out and tired.  Once at work, she encountered a series of little crises; each easy to handle but insidious at creating stress.  Coworkers flocked to her, each in a panic and needing her assistance.  Distress calls came from across the building, systems glitchy and problems to resolve over the phone and at a distance.  Customers arrived early, with no one ready for them, or late, causing additional angst.  An off-site call caused her to miss her lunch break; an unexpected hour standing in the sun reddened her skin.   

As the man on the other end of the phone repeated himself for the third time, she hastily stifled the scream that rose in her throat.  Her body ached to yell, to vent, to throw something; the stress had built to a breaking point.  Finally the man paused, and she seized her moment.

“I’m so glad I could resolve that for you today, sir, and thank you for calling.  Have a pleasant afternoon.”

She waited only a half second more as the man thanked her and said goodbye, then dropped the phone into its cradle a little harder than necessary.  Rubbing her forehead, she leaned onto her elbows.  A breath, and she gave in to the urges, yelling wordlessly at the top of her lungs.  Her assistant poked her head through the door.

“Are you okay?” the girl asked.

“I’m going home for the day,” was the only reply.

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