Nola was twenty-three years old. Her hair was dyed blonde and she wore it shoulder length. She moved to Ireland from Belarus when she was eight years old. Her speech contained a trace of Slavic accent and she would stumble on the occasional word if she was nervous.

The ever beautiful Nola entered the fancy Allé Chandelier Café au Lait. A most fabulous hipster café that sells overpriced sugary drinks with unnecessarily long and hard to remember beverage names.

As Nola pushed with through the revolving door with her more than feminine musculature, she had already decided what she was going to order. In fact, Nola has a 'drink of the day' for every day. Today was Wednesday. Humpback Wednesday as she likes to call it. For Wednesday, she needed the most potent coffee, black coffee. Two more days to go, she thought.

"Bonjour petite mad-moose-selle. The usual?"

"Le Venti Blanc Cappuccino with no sugar. Ah yes, the usual. Merci," Nola replied with a goofy looking smile. Her jaw was slightly misaligned whenever she smiled but she was pretty enough to pull it off. It honestly didn't detract from her cute bubbly looks at all.

"One Le Venti," the coffee artist emphasised the venti in an exaggerated Italian accent, "Blanc à la cupa coming right up," now mixing Italian with French. The coffee artist winked, causing sparkles to materialise out in Nola's overactive imagination. He was suave and handsome to boot but was too gay in Nola's eyes. The man’s posture echoed more femininity than the most girly of girls even though he had the body of a bodybuilder.

Nola let out a polite sounding scuffle of a laugh causing the barista to flush. I'm so suave, he thought to himself. How homosexually flamboyant of him, Nola thought beneath her smile.

Nola grabbed her overly long named coffee and exited the hipster coffee shop.

She stood outside and breathed in the fresh cool morning air. The wisps of steam from her Le Venti Blanc with cream but no sugar danced and hung in the air. The smell of finely poured coffee switched her into robotic office lady mode. I am ready for paperwork. I'm ready.

She then decided to take a tiny sip of it. Carefully raising the cup as to not set her throat on fire, she took a teeny sip that burned her lips. Playing the dangerous game of being burnt in the mouth woke her up to the gravity of the situation. It was time to set foot into the office. The solemn office life awaits her.

She adjusted her skirt and pinched up her stockings. It was time, she thought yet again. For real this time. Any moment now.

The entrance to the insurance company she worked in was directly beside the café. A sigh of the heftiest manner was exhaled through her nostrils, blowing some steam out into the cold summer morning. The glass door parted for her and she stepped afoot without any more procrastinations.

Nola walked through an even more depressing door which led to her desk. Cold, hard and grey was the colour palette of the office life. Nola was subconsciously screaming every day and she even didn't know it. Keeping up this façade of a normal life was tedious but her job as an assessor gave her life security.

Twenty heavy stacks of pages and pages later, she realised her fears were well founded. Her face was buried beneath stacks and stacks of papers detailing names, ages, health problems, insured wealth...

"Nola, it's only half nine. Looks like you're hanging by the thread."

She looked up and who would you know, Dave the psycho NPC with his head popped up from their desk wall that was propped between them.

"Bleh~ Why don't you do my share if you're so compassionate, Dave?"

He squinted his eye like he was doing his best impression of a china man caricature.

"Sleepy already? Don't know whatcha' want since you always look so tired. It's a comfortable career here. Good easy money. I've done a lot worst. Used to work at the bookies. This-" he pointed both fingers to the ceiling, "-is heaven on Earth. I'm tellin' ya Nola." Dave let out a hearty crackle of a laugh. "Hee hee hee heeee-"

A psychopath, thought Nola. Her eye bags had already materialised to the surface of her light make-up. Office workers were all deranged, even myself. Whether it was because they were driven crazy trapped in their mundane life of modern slavery or perhaps it was the office that attracted these psychos.

She had thousands of things she wished for and none of them were to have a desk beside his. It was a semiopen office with waist level walls separating every two worker. Nola wished the wall was made higher but clearly a psychopath was in charge with designing the layouts of the office too. In other words, office life was a certain variation of hell and Nola was living thick in it, exposed.

She had had enough of his retarded demeanour. She decided to take her daily thirty minutes break fifteen minutes earlier than usual, totalling her small break of today to forty-five minutes. She glanced pitifully at the creature that was Dave before she left.

Nola sat staring emptily out the window in the café she visited this morning. She had the same coffee sitting in front of her, now an ice coffee.

She looked at the barista. It was the same barista from earlier this morning. Of course it was the same. Only an hour had past. Why in the world would a shift last so little? Why do these idiotic and obvious statements run rampant in my mind? Annoyed at herself, she ruffled her hair irritably.

The barista was a handsome, jacked man whose muscles seemed to be on the verge of bursting through the seams of his undersized shirt. She examined him and came to the same conclusion as always. That he clearly visited the gym six days out of seven in a week. He looked gay, Nola thought, handsome but gay. The fact that she have seen him so much of him, the lustrous appeal has long worn off.

Since she took her morning routine tea break early, she decided to loiter around Grafton Street. The streets were quiet. The normal hustle and bustle has not begun yet. The streets were mostly still filled with men and women in suits heading to their jobs. Nola was sure that these people were contemplating their adult life. She herself didn't really mind as these people didn't. As a well-adjusted contributing member of society, this was how things were. It was important to fit in.

Along her walk, she saw a man dragging a harp shaped object on the back of a trolley. There were some boxes stacked in the front topped by an upside down stool. He looked about his mid-twenties and sported a chic black overcoat. Another man with a perfectly trimmed beard, she thought. After visiting the usual coffee shop with the flamboyant barista sporting the same type of beard, Nola couldn't help but think that all of these bearded types of men were gay. The box was rounded on the top. Curious at what it was, Nola followed him inconspicuously conspicuously since she was a clumsy person.

Nola could not imagine such a sleek macho looking man playing the harp. Then again, chances are he's gay, thought Nola again. The man stopped in the middle of the shopping district and propped up three wooden legs. What was placed on it was what Nola thought was a harp case. Turns out to her surprise it was a little baby grand piano. Don't go judging something by its appearance I guess.

"Kinda early to set up?"

"I have to stake my territory early."

"Whatcha' gonna play?"

"Oh, a fan already? I'm joking. I don't have any fans."

"If you can play something that I like, you'll get your first fan."

"Something you like?"

The man placed the stool in front of the freshly set up mini baby grand.

"Do you have any preferences?"

“Hmm... Piano Sonata No.14 in C-sharp Minor, third movement by Beethoven.”

"The third movement of Moonlight Sonata is unfortunately not part of my usual repertoire I'm afraid," he paused deep in thought. “That one's too demanding but give me three months and I'll be able to play that one."

"Do you know a Coldplay song?"

"One Coldplay song coming right up."

Do do do do doo doo~ Do do do do doo doo~

When he started singing, she was blown away that he could actually sing and wasn't just looks. If somebody drags around an acoustic piano around, that musician better be able to sing.

When the singing finished. Nola stood speechless. She even forgot to clap which she loved to do just like Americans.

"You're so good. I didn't deserve that."

The man laughed.

"Are you single?"

The man laughed harder.

"No, I'm serious."

The man laughed even harder and then suddenly stopped.

"Sorry, I'm dating somebody.'"

"Ah." Lucky girl, she thought. "It's a cold day today isn't it?"

She crouched down and placed a tenner gently in the long, rectangular case and a euro on top of the note to keep it from being blown away.

"Thanks."

She pretended to look at her watch and then set off back to the office. She wanted to ask the man for his number but what's the point if he's taken. Her friend Eleanor and her little brother was much better at piano, she thought. They couldn't sing though.

...

Nola was back at the office. Her head was down working on some meaningless piece of banal work on her corporate laptop that had already been finished during the first twenty minutes of the day. She was merely pretending to look busy as she sensed there was somebody approaching her. It was old man Vasco. It was lunchtime.

He did a head tilt to Nola to signal her to join him for lunch. Old man Vasco was a hell of a perv and he was Filipino. She would overhear Vasco and some other work colleagues commenting and rating the asses of female co-workers who walked by. Men, pigs. Nothing in their mind but meat. They were all married men as well with wife and kids and this made Nola grimace in disgust when Vasco asked her to lunch together. What also disgusted Nola was women who settled with these pigs.

Why do they marry people like this? I'd pulverise him with my bare fists if I catch a glance. She meant it. She didn't go to the kickboxing gym for nothing. She relished in beating people with brute force. She loved to inflict pain, especially if it was on defenseless old men like Vasco. There was something hugely satisfying when a man submits to a strong woman.

She walked with him to the canteen.

"How did you meet your wife?"

"Ah, my wife..." Vasco squinted his already squinty Asian eyes and looked ponderously ahead as if he had x-ray vision that saw through the walls to the female toilets. "I haven't forgotten, it's just been so, so long ago."

"Ah, so yo-"

"It was a hot Philippine summer. I could still hear the cicadas, cricketing outside on those eucalyptus trees."

They lined up in a queue full of middle-aged men.

"I was a plumber."

Nola pretended to be surprised at this fact to look attentive. A sleazy plumber obviously.

"The door opened and my jaw dropped down several stories because the most beautiful woman I have ever seen was standing in front of me."

"Wow, lucky."

"Yes, but I had to have the courage for the coming steps." He let out deep sigh to emphasise the gravitas of his words, "Fate only brings you to the door."

"True", Nola tilted her head to show she agreed.

"-and so of course I had her number since I was called as a plumber."

Nola retracted her previous agreement. Fate did too much of the heavy lifting for this sleazy old man. Some people have all the luck.

She grabbed the ladle and poured some soup into her bowl while Vasco continued on his story as if he was reciting the Iliad. By the time they arrived at the table, the tale was finished with pomp and circumstance

"Lucky you."

"That's why I named my little girl Lucy. You know, like lucky."

"Ah really?" Nola felt sickened but didn't show it.

One of Vasco's circle of friends approached the table while Nola slurped on her soup. It was Dave the psychopath.

"Hola Vasco, hola Nola."

Christ, Dave. Vasco is Filipino, not Mexican. This was Dave's trademark greeting to Vasco yet Vasco wasn't offended. Cultural differences, thought Nola. If he doesn't feel offended then there's no need to correct Dave. Dave talked like a child more often than not. He probably spends too much time playing and baby talking with his child.

"Look at you fellas, slurping yer soup. What's on the menu today?"

"It's whatever leftover they had from yesterday.” answered Vasco solemnly.

Nola looked at the soup, not noticing what she was slurping on until now. It was spaghetti bits today.

"My child loves those spaghetti cans," Dave said and then decided to launch a one sided dialogue on the latest reality show that his wife and him watched.

Vasco grumbled something unintelligible.

Another man joined the table holding his own lunchbox.

It was one of the higher ups, a project manager; a slimy, swarthy man. He was Indian. His stomach was fat and his hair was slicked back, carefully styled to be fashionable in his eyes. There was bad blood between Vasco and the fat Indian. Office politics. Backstabbing. Both mutually interchangeable.

"Hey guys." His voice was hoarse, containing hardly any vitality, almost evoking a sense of pity. This was all just an act. Appear weak and strike when they least expected. Art of War, Sun Tzu. A manager's bible.

Vasco grumbled even louder as he shuffled across to make a space for the newcomer.

The swarthy man immediately overtook the conversation with his own diatribe.

"Ah, always bring your own lunch. Nothing healthier than homemade food."

Vasco couldn't help but nod his head in agreement even though he hated the swarthy snake.

"True," agreed Dave. "Always with your words of wisdom, Kamil."

What leaked into the air from the lunchbox was an extremely pungent smelling curry. It stung the nostrils if you weren't a curry consuming race like Kamil. Nola thought it looked tasty but the amount of grease and oil in it didn't look as healthy as the big shot manager implied. I'm sure he's just eating it to save lunch money, she thought. He was a known penny pincher even though he had the highest salary of them all at the table.

Another man joined the table and they all shuffled over again. Then another one and another one. Soon there wasn't even elbow room left on the small round table.

Nola pretended to listen intently to their conversations. They talked about current news, politics which Dave tuned out of, talks about the latest reality TV show that Dave and his missus obsessed over which was now Vasco's turn to tune out, and the such. The most common topic they talked about was their wife and kids and paying their mortgages.

Her ears perked up when Dave talked about the negative effects of Spongebob Squarepants. He shook his head in quiet disgust mentioning it.

"Some of them cartoons are dangerous."

"I'm sorry? We're talking about Spongebob right?” one of the office drones chimed in. The office drone laughed.

Nola kept her cool, curious at how Spongebob Squarepants could possibly destroy and corrupt childhood innocence.

"Some of them are wacko. The subliminal messaging and images in it. It's not good for them," David said with utmost seriousness. He continued begrudgingly as if speaking of unspeakable war crimes performed on children. "A child's mind at that age are easily influenced."

"You might say they're like sponges."

Dave ignored him. "It's dangerous. Some of the ideas that go into them," he shook his head again. " I don't want my girl to grow up weird."

Nola laughed inside at this forty year old grown man preaching the dangers of Spongebob. Caveman intuition as evidence wasn't exactly what she would present as an argument when vilifying a child's cartoon. Only one visibly laughed. Vasco nodded in agreement. Confederacy of the dunces, she thought and I was one of them.

There was an intern at the table who looked like a lost child. Nola saw that in his eyes languished a physical pain. The pain of having to witness these types of adult conversations every day. Nola was sure that he would not be back after his placement was over. Who could blame him? The world of adults was not a place for the weak minded.

This was why she didn't like grabbing lunch with Vasco and the other office drones. It wasn't much better with the female co-workers. All they talked about were men, work and people she didn't know. Nola felt a bit indebted to Vasco though since he was her first manager so she sucked it up and laughed when appropriate and questioned when something was meant to provoke a question.

Nola went outside for her daily after lunch walk as did most of the other employees. She went to the bookstore called Bookchapters. His little brother had already finished the last book she got him. He was probably getting a lift back home right now from school, she thought.

She started giggling at the thought of how vehemently opposed Dave was to a child's cartoon. Then she felt disgusted that seemingly college educated idiots like Dave were raising children. What other dumb traits would someone like him pass and nurture. No wonder the world's in a current mess when educated people were no better than retards. Spongebob Devilpants, she thought.

She picked up a book for under four year olds. Teletubbies. Wonder what Dave's opinions were on these homosexual devil spawns who eat LSD laced cookies. Or was it marijuana in Dave's view? She threw her head back in cackling laughter, drawing worried looks from customers.

She picked up a picture book this time. "The Beautiful Princess" by Mel Blanc. That's me alright. I think I would like this one more than my little brother though. I'm sure he'll enjoy it too.

She picked up another book because the spline was eye-catching. "The Watcher of the Dusk." She decided she liked the title and the cover and purchased it. It can't be that bad if the title sounds cool.

She looked at her watch. 3pm. I should head back to the office.

When Nola got back to her desk, she didn't have anything that she didn't already blaze through from earlier this week and this morning so she sat there watching videos on the internet on one monitor and playing checkers on the other.

Some days she would get home exhausted from doing absolutely nothing at work. It was strange.

The thing about working, she thought, was that any kind of work ethic results in the same pay. You move up in the world building and linking networks, something she excelled at. The other factor that's equally important is luck. This job itself came from a friend who she met at the gym across from this office block.

She typed some trite into a spreadsheet and then checked her corporate e-mail.

"Let's see, let's see." She hummed the tune from earlier in the morning. "Yay, new email." She said in feigned enthusiasm.

It was an application to upskill with a paid master's in a national college. They pay you to skip out on work by attending this college, I could use that. Nola was really thinking of escaping this company and hoping that she would never have to see these people ever again. According to the course, she would be working on a thesis project in conjunction with the branch here, and would have to travel back to this office from time to time. I still get to see them less though. A lot less.

She examined it closer. It was a contract that extended her current contract by another two years. The option of paying her way out of the contract was always there so that didn't concern her.

There was also a requirement to attend a work convention in San Francisco for a presentation. In other words, she would be in charge of advertising their company in Silicon Valley. They only paid for the airline ticket and expenses in the airport. A multi-billion dollar company being cheapskates. Business as usual, Nola thought. She knew of a loophole to make some necessary adjustments to corporate trips.

The problem was her little brother. He was disabled from the waist down and she was his sole caretaker. She was afraid he wouldn't be able to settle comfortably when they had to move to another city where this university was situated in.

She knew if she were to ask him, he would go along, not wanting to deter her because of his own disabilities.

Then again, not working a nine to five job would mean she would have more time to spend with him. She lamented how he was starting to feel emotionally distanced from her these days.

She glanced at the other details. Pay was good. In fact, they paid for the studying which was more than her current pay if you factor in they will cover the accommodation cost. It was a master’s in marketing. The project undertaken during the course will be in corporation with this corporation. Her eyes scanned the line twice and then the rest of the e-mail. Blah, blah, blah, it read.

She had been out of college for two years now. To go back would feel like a step backwards and the prestige of holding paper degree didn't mean much to her. Starting a new life attracted her though. She had already reached a comfortable dead-end.

"Why not?" she thought.

The digital clock struck 4.00pm. I'm good enough for the day. Tired from doing little to nothing as usual. Collecting pay checks were easy once you found yourself in the door.

She thought about what she had: Money, a comfortable house, friends, a person I love and cherish and a nice easy life. It would mean throwing out everything that she had built up if she got accepted to the master's.

As she left, she looked back and saw Dave's head stuck down, hard at work.

Nola took the bus home. The bus wasn't crowded but she stood the whole way. When she decided to sit down the next stop was her stop.

She stood in front of her home shuffling through her little handbag for her keys. She opened the door and what greeted her was a sight of a crippled boy covered in blood.