Word Count: 6914
Most people are born with three names tattooed on their wrist: Their true love, their biggest enemy, and their greatest ally. You only have one name. (X)
You were walking slower than normal, the tall stack of paper and envelopes weighing you down and throwing off your balance. You could feel your purse slipping from your shoulders, and your arms were growing tired as you walked across the lobby of your office building. You took a few rushed steps towards the stairwell, the elevator had unfortunately stopped working. You leant the stack of papers against the wall, readjusting your grip before attempting to ascend the narrow stairwell. Sadly, your efforts were in vain.
Rushed footsteps were approaching fast from behind until suddenly, a body slammed into your shoulder. You gasped in horror as you watched the stack of paper in your hands topple to the ground. You looked up, expecting an apology, but all you saw was the figure of an unfamiliar man with blonde hair, dressed in a suit, hastily dashing up the stairway, skipping every second step.
“Rude,” you muttered to yourself, hearing his footsteps grow quieter as he ascended. You glanced down at the mess in front of you, stretching out your hands to soothe the ache that had developed from carrying the stack. You glanced down at your wrists as you massaged the joint, watching the words written on the skin crease with your movements.