FAG BREAKS

They’re annoying, not setting up proper processes to study this thing, ridiculous; you’d think they’re fresh out of university – oh fuck they are!  No respect for experience.  I’m going for a fag.

The warm spot next to the air conditioning fans is free.  The sun doesn’t penetrate this courtyard, the buildings are too tall.  They’ve done their best with it, little tables, flower pots, shelters ... Why is someone talking to me?

“The cold’s your fault.  You always wear trousers, today you’re wearing a skirt.  I’m not complainin’, nice pair o’ pins you got bein’ so tall.  ‘Ow tall are you love?”
Typically my luck, it’s a short arse with a wrinkled face, toting on a cigar.  I will stub my fag out, put my social face on and join Lottie in the canteen.

“Lottie, this weird guy in the courtyard blamed the cold on me; he noticed what I was wearing.”

“I’m not surprised, you’re wearing a skirt.  It looks nice.”
“He was creepy.”
“Don’t let him put you off your fags.  We can’t live in a world where we let guys intimidate us.”
Lottie’s cool, she says I’d be unbearably grumpy if I tried to give up smoking and she’s right.  I must go and continue development work; it’s getting to a vital stage.

Unpleasant afternoon, they’re not hearing my ideas, I need a promotion to Level 7, they’d listen then.  I keep getting these chest infections though and sick days ruin my chances ...  Need a fag.  Oh God, that guy is there again!

“The tall blonde bombshell’s back!” he’s saying.
Talk about inappropriate.  “Who are you?”  I demand.
“I’m Lucio, your guardian angel,” he replies with a sickly smile.

Every time I take a fag break, he’s there.  Lottie says ignore him and cheers me up by buying me a packet of ciggies.  I make the mistake of telling him, he says if she’s a proper friend she won’t encourage me.  He’s ugly!  Not that I’m shallow, but his skin is yellow, like he has sclerosis.  I mustn’t talk to him, that’ll give him the hint.  It’s not like I speak much anyway.

It’s a week since that weirdo first approached me.  Today (my birthday) I go for a fag and he’s decorated the courtyard with daffodils.  “It’s because you remind me of spring, love,” he says, staring at me all googly eyed.

It’s not just about him and his strange, constant presence, but the chest infections too.  This is my last fag break, I’m not smoking anymore.

“But Evelyn,” says Lottie, when I go to the canteen, “you can’t let a weird man put you off.  You love smoking!”

“I’m giving up,” I answer, “once I make up my mind that’s it.”

At the end of that day Lottie finds Lucio in the Courtyard.

“Some you win, some you lose, love,” he sympathises, “you tried to keep her smoking.  What can I say?  We fight for different sides, good and evil, but we can still respect each other.  Evelyn’s my best ever save, brilliant mind!  She’ll be healthy now, more working days, more productivity, bound to get that promotion.  She’ll change the world.”
Lottie sighs, glancing upwards where the company sign catches the sun – ‘Pan Global Military Solutions’ – “Yes,” she concedes, “she certainly will.”