Chapter 9: Learning to Feel
Two weeks had passed since the night Zeke had gone out with Logan, and the insomnia had only gotten worse. He barely slept three or four hours a night. Usually just before dawn, and the exhaustion was beginning to show.
Now, sitting at the head of the long black marble table in his executive office, Zeke rubbed his temple as he flipped through the proposal in front of him. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, and every word seemed to irritate him more than the last.
"This budget is ridiculous," he snapped, slamming the folder shut. The manager who had brought the proposal flinched. "Did you think I wouldn’t read it? Or do you actually believe this kind of inflated nonsense would pass under my nose?"
"I’m.. I’m sorry, Mr. Salvador," the manager stammered.
"Get out," Zeke growled. "Come back when you know what you’re doing."
The door clicked shut behind the retreating employee. It wasn’t the first outburst of the day. By noon, three more people, two managers and one junior executive, had left his office looking pale, frazzled, and borderline humiliated.
The entire floor was on edge.
Andrew, his long-time personal assistant, watched the revolving door of verbal casualties with a resigned expression. He stood by his desk outside Zeke’s office, arms crossed, shaking his head slightly.
From the corner, Linda, the front-desk secretary peeked toward him, whispering, "Is he... okay?"
Andrew turned to her with a sharp look. "Don’t ask questions you’re not ready to hear answers to."
Linda blinked. "It’s just... everyone who goes in comes out looking like they’ve been hit by a truck."