Word of the day: Proud
Marty’s job as a leadership consultant only made sense to him. Describing it to friends or new acquaintances usually resulted in blank stares and weak smiles as listeners tried to make sense of it. He got it. There was an air of abstraction to it all that didn’t translate to those who had more practical vocations. One of the perks of the job for him was working from home. No morning commute to fight just so he could go to a bland office. Working from home meant working in his underwear if he so chose, which he never chose because Leslie asked him not to. Still, knowing the option was there was nice.
Today he couldn’t enjoy his home office. Searing pain surged through his hand. The sliver from the chair was still lodged in his finger. Attempts to pluck it out with tweezers had to be aborted because the skin around the wound was too sensitive. Each pulse of his heartbeat pounded in his arm and up to his skull, banging behind his eyes. Ibuprofen proved useless. He sipped a whiskey to relax him while pretending to read email.
Don’t be too proud to go to the doc, a text from Leslie told him. They’ll take it out.
She was right. Suck it up. He stumbled through the dining room toward his office where his phone lay only to be stopped by a whisper.
“Stop the pain.”