Skip to content Mr. Wilson was already there.
He was wearing a red polo shirt, light-colored shorts, and looked nothing like the stern director I saw every day at work.
“You came,” he said.
“Yes. Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?”
He glanced around.
“First, we need to do something.”
Then he handed his phone to a woman walking nearby.
“Would you mind taking a photo of us?”
I stared at him in confusion.
“A photo?”
“Yes. Just stand next to me and smile.”
At that point, I was becoming uncomfortable.
If someone from the company saw us there, wha
t would they think?
Worse—what if the photo ended up somewhere?
But he stood beside me, placed his hand casually around my back, and we took one picture.
Then he took his phone back, looked at the photo, and said,
“Good.”
“And now?”
His only response was:
“Come to the office tomorrow at nine.”
“But you fired me.”
For the first time, he smiled.
“I know.”