Just another day at the office

In his five years on the job, Samrat had never seen his boss pass his desk without yelling, glaring, or making a snide remark.

The surface tension of the water in the cup on his desk rippled as his boss approached. But Samrat didn’t need to see that to know. The sound of footsteps, the overpowering stench of cologne, and the creeping tension down his spine were enough to warn him—Mr. Durbesh was rushing toward him. Before the man reached his cubicle, Samrat had already turned around, head hung in shame, fists clenched on his knees, bracing himself for the inevitable yelling.