“You're Late”

“You’re late,” you hiss as I arrive. I frown. I hadn’t thought I was late at all. I check my watch again and I cringe. Crap. late. “I’m sorry, Sir,” I whisper, knowing the words are empty to you. We’d already spoken about my tardiness before, and this was meant to be my “last strike”. Fuck. You turn to your friends and make conversation. The bartender offers me a drink, and I order

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