"I swear to god, Mack, if you make another stupid pun about forks I'm gonna stab you with one."
I hadn't meant to say it that loud. The entire breakroom went quiet. Twelve pairs of eyes staring at me like I'd just pulled the fire alarm. Mack's stupid grin faded a little, but not enough.
"Jeez, Ellie. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he said, biting into his sandwich.
I should've kept my mouth shut. But three hours of sleep and a morning dealing with the Henderson account had pushed me over the edge. Plus, Mack's fork puns had been going on for weeks now.
"Look—I'm sorry, okay? It's just been a really shitty day."
Mack shrugged. "Whatever."
But it wasn't whatever. I knew I'd have to fix this mess. Mack was annoying but he was good people. And technically my supervisor.
I went back to my desk and tried to focus on the spreadsheet that had been giving me grief all morning. The numbers blurred together on my screen. I rubbed my eyes.
"Hey."
I looked up. It was Fiona from accounting, leaning against my cubicle with two coffees.
"Thought you might need this," she said, holding one out. "That was, um, quite the scene back there."
I took the coffee. "Thanks. Not my proudest moment."
"We've all been there." She perched on the edge of my desk. "Though threatening to stab your boss with a fork might be a new one for the HR handbook."
"He's not my—" I stopped. Actually, after the department restructuring last month, he technically was my boss now. Shit.
"It's this cluster fork of a project," I said, gesturing at my screen. "The Henderson numbers don't match what Marketing promised them, and guess who has to explain why they're only getting half the returns they expected?"
Fiona winced. "Been there. Remember the Jacobson disaster?"
I did. It had taken three all-nighters and about fifty gallons of coffee to fix.
"You know what you need?" Fiona said, standing up. "A real lunch break. Away from this place. The deli on 4th just started serving those loaded fries you like."
"I can't. This is due by—"
"By tomorrow. I checked with Devon. You've got time."
I hesitated. The spreadsheet wasn't going to fix itself, but my brain felt like mush.
"Fine. But only thirty minutes."
Fiona smiled. "I'll grab our coats."
On our way out, we passed Mack in the hallway. He gave me a look that was half annoyance, half amusement.
"Hey, Mack," I said, stopping. "I really am sorry about... you know."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's cool. Just don't threaten me with knives in front of Peggy from HR again. She already thinks I'm not 'managerial material.'"
"Deal."
"And Ellie? If you need help with Henderson, I can—"
"She's got it," Fiona cut in. "But she needs actual food first."
Mack nodded. "Fork yeah, she does."
I groaned, but this time I laughed too.
Sometimes all it takes to untangle a cluster fork of a day is admitting you need help, eating something that isn't from a vending machine, and to appreciate a really terrible pun.
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