My fingers graze delicately across the raised, colorless scar above my left elbow. The sunrise beams through the changing leaves in the trees and reflects brightly on the mirror in my bedroom that desperately needs to be cleaned. The tip of my index traces the scar with the gentleness of a snowflake landing on an eyelash; not disturbing or causing harm, just simply creating contact. My mind flashes back to eight months previous.

“Come to my office.” My boss said, sipping his coffee. “I have a question about the grant you wrote yesterday.”

I rub my eyes and shake my head. The light in my closet flickers as I turned it on, a habit it’s had that I’ve not had time to fix. My mind has been preoccupied. I pull out a plaid tie and slip on my black dress shoes.

The smell of cologne engulfed my nose and I sat down on the creaky chair placed facing his large desk.

Dark coffee groans on my counter and I lift the pot to pour it into a mug. After adding cream and sugar I take a sip.

Sleet covered the view from his office window and the city line was cast with a lens of grey due to the weather. The atmosphere omitted a dim haze to the room, the light accompanied only by a glass lava lamp in the corner by the door.

I place my mug down with force and jump at the sound of the glass clattering on the marble counter. I throw the rest of the coffee in the sink, grab my keys and open the front door to my apartment, heading down the hallway towards the elevator.

The brass handle on the door was turned swiftly and locked. My boss placed a calloused hand on my shoulder and I looked up, making contact with his green eyes and he flashed me a bright white smile; teeth standing proud and straight, except for the right canine that was a bit longer than the rest.

My car starts and I quickly blast the heat, pull out of my parking spot, and turn onto the industrial strip of businesses I live amongst.

“I’m not actually here to talk about grants and work related things, Max.” He began, a mischievous expression spreading across his wrinkled face, thick grey eyebrows tightening.

“What do you need sir?”

“Company, I guess you could say.” Keeping his hand on my shoulder he shifted his body to face me, standing over where I sat, both of his arms trapping me in the chair.

I flick on my blinker and merge onto the busy highway, traveling mundanely in the left lane, under the bridge, past the graffiti wall, avoiding the three potholes near exit 4, just as I do everyday.

My boss leaned in. I closed my eyes and scrunched my nose.

I park my car on the second floor of the garage and head into my office. My stomach moans in abandonment and it occurs to me I didn’t eat breakfast this morning, nor did I have dinner last night. Eating seems to be fleeing my priorities. My mind has been preoccupied. My blazer and slacks hang loosely on my frame.

“You have a wife.” I reminded him, firmly attempting to push him away from me. He captured my hands and held them roughly.

“True, but I don't have husband.”

I decide to take the stairs up to floor 3 rather than the elevator, to increase the time I had before the work day begins.

I elbowed his stomach and began for the door, but it was locked from the outside.

“I’ll report you” I threatened, backing myself into the corner of the room.

“Nobody is going to believe you.” He approached me steadily, inch by inch, one step forward each time I stepped backwards. “Like you said, everyone knows I have a wife.”

When I reach the top of the third staircase, my heart is beating heavily in my protruding ribcage. I haven’t exercised in awhile. My mind has been preoccupied.

In a state of panic I began to pound on office the door from the inside. He grabbed my arm roughly, causing me to stumble into the lava lamp in the corner.

I walk into the office and wave politely at the receptionist, before turning my face to the floor and silently making my way to my cubicle.

Blue liquid pooled on the ground and warm blood seeped through my blazer on my arm, right above my left elbow. I sat on the floor in pain, surrounded by glass. He squatted beside me and forcefully grabbed my chin. “You know you need this job.”

I shiver and shake my head, I habit I’ve found myself doing often, and open my laptop to begin my day. A calloused hand touches my shoulder. I bend my neck up and my brown eyes connect with green. White teeth stand proud and straight, except for the right canine, which was longer than the rest.

“Good morning, Max.”

“Good morning sir.” I gulp.

“Have lunch with me today.”

I pause for a moment before replying with a weak “Okay.”

“Assaulted? By someone you know?” The policeman asked me, furrowing his eyebrows and sipping his mug that was on the cold metal desk.

“Yes, it was, um, my boss. At the nonprofit down the street.”

The policeman looked at me then glanced at his coworker in the corner of the room. Silence sat heavily until it was interrupted by hearty laughter.

“Danny? He's one of my buddies! I had him and his wife, uhh, Donna! Yeah, Donna! I had him and Donna over the other day for dinner. No way dude.”

“But- I have proof! Look! He knocked me over!” I rolled up my sleeve and gestured to the tender gash on my arm.

“It’s a scrape buddy. I get like ten of those a week tryna shave my beard. Could have come from anything.”

“But-“

“Sorry if Danny isn’t your favorite boss but don’t go spreading rumors like this. Could screw things up for him, yanno.”

He removes his hand and gives me a curt nod before disappearing into his office. Tears begin to leak from my eyes and I wipe them hastily before anyone sees, while swallowing the lump in my throat. I gently graze my fingertip over the scar above my left elbow. I can barely focus on my work.

My mind is preoccupied.