Day Life

A boring day to add to my already dull life. Well, I shouldn't call it dull... Only my day life is. I suppose I over-exaggerate on simplistic things.

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I'm Madalin Whitfield: a high-paid secretary working for some big league CEO in Oregon. I think it's only because of my sweet and innocent looks that get me where I am today. I grew up in the middle class, hell, even lower. I worked on farmlands with my two brothers. I knew how to drive tractors at thirteen. I could work all of the equipment by the time I was fifteen. My family's income wasn't the greatest, even when our crops would produce more than usual, allowing us to sell about three percent more than normal. I was also home-schooled, but that allowed me to graduate around sixteen/seventeen. One thing I did do, however, was save up whatever I made all of my life. I took on several jobs, after I was excused from crop work. I moved out by the time I was eighteen, to a more populated area. That's where my opportunities would flourish.

There, now whomever is following now knows my childhood. Be grateful, I suppose, but I've only scratched the surface of what you are about to discover.
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A few days ago, my eyes had caught this devilishly handsome man. He was either new or received a new job in another department of this looming infrastructure. We made eye contact several times, and I found myself swooning. I'm not the type to do so in front of a complete stranger, but there was something about him I couldn't put my finger on. He seemed like the fun, out-going type, and I wanted to get closer. My fingers kept brushing my short hair away from my face, averting my gaze until I felt his leave mine. Then they would involuntarily touch my neck, the collar of my blouse. This was a bizarre feeling.

Little did he know, even though I didn't want it to be my priority, he is my prey.