Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Every time I look in your eyes I see Sprinkles' stiff, lifeless body!
. . . Is what Angela had said to him that night. The words had tumbled past her lips before she fully recognized their significance. She had been so angry.
In the days and weeks since, she had thought about those words again and again, letting them run through her head like the lyrics to an annoying song. Her words had hurt him, and instantly she had been sorry, but she could not take it back. Could not take those words back even though these days it felt like they were living in different worlds, and she was already forgetting how it felt to have his arms around her.
On long afternoons, she often found herself staring at the same calculations on spreadsheets, as she replayed how she had gotten up quickly, unable to meet his sad eyes, fearful of going back. Sad, and already sorry, but . . . still just so mad at him.
She was not the wishy washy kind of woman who couldn't stand by her own convictions. Dwight had unceremoniously ended Sprinkle's life, and that was not something she could just get over.
What Dwight simply did not get, was that Sprinkles was more to her than just a cat. Angela had rescued Sprinkles from her neighbor's bratty little girl. Sprinkles had been only a week old and still had to be bottle fed. Sprinkles had started out life as just tufts of hair and little feet, and for Angela it had been love at first sight. Later it had been Sprinkles who came running for the door when Angela returned after a long day at the office, mewing and purring, and winding around Angela's feet as she took down her pony tail, and warmed some tea. They had formed a bond that Angela hadn't felt with another human being for a long time. Not until Dwight had come along . . .
Now, there was just an emptiness for which Dwight was responsible. Her heart hurt over and over thinking of Sprinkles alone in the freezer. It was just not right. And if Dwight could do something like that, well, then maybe he didn't truly understand her the way she thought he did. Maybe they had grown apart, become strangers, the longer they had carried on their clandestine romance. Or maybe she had never really known Dwight at all.
Now, she mostly made a point to not make contact with Dwight at all, hiding behind the walls of her cubicle, silently planning her lunches around his, and sweeping out with everyone else so as not to ever be left alone with him. Sometimes she overheard him on the phone and realized that she no longer knew who he was talking to, or the plans he was making. On Friday’s, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering what his weekends were like without her. When they did pass, she found herself tensing up, wanting to say something, but instead retreating to the unhappy memory of how he had disappointed and hurt her. She had never been one to forgive and forget.
Still . . . some days, she watched him surreptitiously, wondering if he was thinking about her.
Then, Andy had serenaded her with that stupid song. She hadn’t felt like herself when she had agreed to go to dinner with him.
She could tell by the droop of Dwight’s shoulders that he had over-heard. She couldn’t explain the warm blush that had spread up her neck.
Andy wasn't a bad kisser. And sometimes he almost made her forget about Dwight. Then he would start talking about Cornell, and Lacrosse, and she would think about how much better it would be if he just went back to kissing her.
Chapter End Notes:
I have been wondering how Angela and Dwight have been holding up . . .
