Bennett had never liked his job. The very idea of being beneath someone irritated him to no end. His boss’s authority grated on his nerves, and as for his co-workers they were little more than dust beneath his shoes.

The office was growing unbearable. The air felt thick, sticky, and stifling, as if the summer heat had decided to wrap itself around him like some desperate, unwanted companion. The air conditioner had long given up, leaving everyone to simmer in the sweltering room. Sweat clung to his skin, and for a fleeting moment, he considered throwing himself out the nearest window just to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

As if that weren’t enough, Emily had decided that this was the perfect time to flirt. Her voice grated on his already fraying patience. He didn’t even bother looking up from his computer. “Emily...” he began, fingers still tapping on the keyboard, “will you please shut the fuck up? You smell like dead fish.”

The office fell into a stunned silence. A few suppressed snickers broke through, but no one dared speak. He kept typing, the rhythmic clatter of keys mixing with the sound of her uneasy breathing....loud, wet, and annoyingly close to his ear. “And another thing,” he added dryly, finally glancing at her. “Could you stop breathing around me? It’s... irritating, to say the least.”

His brows lifted, silently urging her to leave. He offered her a small, deliberate smile—his dimples deepening just enough to twist the knife. Emily flushed, humiliated, and quickly retreated.

“Stupid slut” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Rising from his chair, he stretched lazily, the fabric of his shirt pulling tight across his shoulders. A few co-workers stared, unsure whether to look away or keep watching. “What?” he asked flatly. “Do I have something on my face?”

He paused for a beat, then added over his shoulder, “Tell the boss I’m leaving.”

It was just past four. He usually stayed until five, but today, the heat had wrung every last ounce of tolerance out of him. He didn’t care what kind of lecture awaited him tomorrow.

The walk to his apartment usually took ten minutes—six if he jogged. When he finally made it home, he dropped onto the couch with a heavy sigh, loosening his tie with one hand and fanning himself with a rolled-up magazine. The quiet of the room wrapped around him like a balm, a stark contrast to the suffocating chaos he’d left behind.