Being summoned to HR for poisoning her boss was a new low.

Now, Kay sat across from HR Rep. Chad.

Chad tapped the fingers of both hands on top of his desk. He gave a deep, meaningful sigh that said 'I don't want to do this, but it is my job.' The faux sincerity was ruined by the beat of annoyance in his fingertips.

"Do you know why you're here, Ms. Oritz?"

Peer pressure. Back stabby, conniving peer pressure, from 'colleagues' who provided the dramatic chorus of nudging and carousing but didn't directly produce the instrument of her undoing. Aspiring lawyers were the worst, or arguably the best, when it came to inter office sabotage.

"I swear, I had no knowledge of Mr. Silverstein's allergies, sir." Kay clasped her hands together.

Chad's brow rose as if Kay just confessed a cardinal sin. "You've worked under the tutelage of Mr. Silverstein for six months. Didn't you bring him lunch every day?"

The staccato tap on the wooden desktop derailed her train of thought. Was that real mahogany?

Focus Kay! Her job, her future, was on the line here!

A stray thread stuck out from the seam of her slacks, taunting her, but fidgeting was a sign of weakness. HR Rep. Chad was ready to pounce. She pressed her hands together until her bones whined in protest.

"No, I mean yes, I brought him lunch, but I thought he was on some kind of Keto, low sodium diet," said Kay. She didn't look Chad in the eye. Instead her gaze wandered across his tidy desk, including the neat stack of paper in the intake tray, not a paperclip out of place, and settled on the thread sticking out of her slacks. Chad was the sort to notice a stray thread. She licked her lips. Don't pull it, don't pull it. Don't give him the satisfaction.

"Keto?" Chad let the word hang between them until a muscle in Kay's eye twitched in betrayal. The beat paused as he reached to the intake tray to adjust and readjust the stack to uniform perfection.

"Mr. Silverstein's attorney informed me they will not be pressing charges, but this is a serious matter, Ms. Oritz, and I'm afraid it will go on your permanent record."

Charges? Record? Permanent? Somewhere, deep inside, a tiny version of herself squeaked and quailed at the words. It was enough to snap her self control. She plucked at the thread, which bunched and popped off, opening a sizable hole along the seam that revealed her strawberry Jolly Roger print tights. A grinning skull winked through the hole.

The universe was laughing at her.

An internal alarm bell went off as the absurdity of the whole situation swelled and breached the levee of her good judgement. Kay opened her mouth.

"It was a harmless prank!" It was an office tradition. The partners expected the interns to pull a little something on the first of April, small little things like veggies in a donut box or switching out the sugar in the morning coffee.

Chad made a soft 'ah' noise. Kay mentally kicked herself. Any hope of a reference was toast.

"While the intent of your rather childish prank--" Kay sputtered at the description. Alex put saran wrap on the men's toilet seats and she was the childish one? "--the result remains the same. You poisoned a main partner of the company, which results in immediate termination."

Kay did flinch at that. Could you really be terminated if they weren't paying you? But she needed this internship. It was key to her five year law school plan.

"I didn't poison him," she began, her voice too quiet. PR Rep. Chad steamrolled right over her.

"As I previously stated, this incident will go on your permanent record. Someone will collect your belongings and you will be escorted from the building."

She frowned at him. "Isn't that a little much?" Did they expect her to track Mr. Silverstein down and throw pocket salt at him? Chad made an unpleasant sucking sound between his teeth in rebuttal. Clearly, she should consider herself lucky she wasn't cuffed and on her way to prison. His gaze narrowed to the fresh hole in her slacks. There was a slight but definitely noticeable curl to his lip.

"It's company policy," he said. "A copy of the incident report shall be mailed to you for your records, along with any outstanding wages."

"They didn't pay me," Kay mumbled.

Chad nodded his chin as a brick of a man emerged from around the corner. "Luke will escort you to the elevators. We have someone bringing your things."

It hit her then. She got herself fired from an unpaid but crucial internship. She was being unceremoniously escorted from the premises. Chad cleared his throat and seized the stack of papers, the classic signal for dismissal. Kay didn't move for a second, too stunned to react, but there was an insistent shadow looming over her. Time for the walk of shame.

The office security, Luke, kept pace with her as they approached the elevator. One of the other interns was waiting for her, Becky, who encouraged her brilliant prank just hours ago. She bet Becky was aware of Mr. Silverstein's allergy. The regretful pout on the other woman's face didn't quite cover the underlying smirk.

Kay paused as Becky handed over a too large box for her limited personal belongings. She hadn't been here long enough to really personalize her desk. Her gaze met Becky's. Kay felt the sharp urge to say something spiteful, a parting shot to ease the sting of the situation. She could have told Becky how the senior partners only took her on because they liked watching her lean over the desk when she dropped off their coffee, but that felt demeaning to both of them. She felt bad for thinking it. Kay dropped her eyes with a sigh. She didn't have it in her to be spiteful and petty.

Which is why office security was escorting her to the parking lot for poisoning her boss. It wasn't until she stood in front of her reliable if dented Chevy that the words finally broke free. "Who the hell is allergic to salt? It's in freaking everything."

Kay tossed her box into the backseat with a sigh of disgust. Four months, she belly crawled through the trenches of Hermann, Silverstein, and Schwartz. The full partners were easy to please. Bring them coffee, collate whatever file they asked, and occasionally pick up the Tuesday dry-cleaning, and one could sit at the table for the morning meeting. Not that they could contribute, but they got front row seat to the riveting world of contractual law.

The interns, however, were a pack of petty Bettys. A seat at the table was considered a critical coup. The partners only left two for the pool of six interns, a technique to 'test their hunger'. Kay wasn't so much hungry, unless a serious hankering for pho counted, as she was very good at multitasking. She sat at the table during the last six meetings, oblivious to the metaphorical target on her back, and thoroughly bored.

Kay slid behind the wheel, an odd mish mash of emotions churning in her gut. There was mortification for the situation, sure, but there was also a disconnect, a distinct lack of panic that she just wasted the last seven years of her life.

Did she even like law?

For the sake of her student loans, she better, or her parents might disown her. She was already living on generosity, cohabiting with the boyfriend while living off her savings, the bulk from her parents far too generous graduation gift. One she dutifully put to use to cover her living expenses while she attained job experience. Kay gnawed on her lip. She didn't relish breaking the news to either Matt, the boyfriend, or her parents about her new predicament.

The car coughed to life with a puff of dark exhaust, the familiar rattle of rust and bolts easing the tension out of her knuckles until Kay loosened her death grip on the wheel. Okay, so she lost one of the most coveted internships on the east coast, she would bounce back from this. Her parents would be thoroughly outraged on her behalf. Matt would support her. It would be fine.

It would be fine.

The box slid across the back seat as she turned out of the parking garage with a fine crackle of broken glass.

Kay blew a breath through her lips. Maybe she could break the news to Matt over a bowl of pho. Yeah, that's what she needed right now-- a giant hot bowl of noodly goodness. It might be a strain on her already limited finances but sometimes a girl needed small luxuries.

"Salt," she muttered as she maneuvered through midday traffic. The best pho joint in the city was twenty minutes from her ex-work. They would be hopping with the lunch crowd but they had excellent speedy service no matter how crazy it got, and their broth was the tastiest Kay ever had.

She dialed Matt's number as she pulled into Phat Pho King's parking lot, already full to bursting.

"What is it, Kay?" There was a touch of mild irritation in his voice. She must have interrupted him at work. Maybe she should have waited until later to do this.

Her stomach growled in protest.

"Hey, I got out of work early. Would you like to join me for lunch at Phat Pho King?" She listened for a beat. Matt sighed into the phone. "I'm buying." Another pause.

"I'm due for my lunch break. I'll see you in ten." The call disconnected.

"Love you, too," she muttered. That wasn't fair. Matt was simply terse on call. The company he worked at frowned on personal calls. And all other forms of fun. They were full of self importance, worked on top secret government projects, and paid Matt very well. Least they pay him.

The tear along the seam of her slacks yawned wider as she crawled out of the car. She wished she brought a change of clothes. Pho, she needed pho. Pho made everything better.

Her favorite server greeted her as she entered. "Hey Kay! Normal table?"

"Table for 2, Joon," she said.

"Oooo, hot date?" Joon held a chair out for her.

Kay was grateful to tuck the now gaping hole in her slacks under the cover of the table, a rickety little two seater tucked in the corner by the window. Kay could watch the world go by while she waited for Matt to show up.

"Can I start you with anything? A Thai tea? Summer rolls?"

Both called to her, but mindful of her funds, she settled on a water. She could hold out ten minutes.

The place was packed with the usual lunch crowd, which is why Joon sent her a quiet look of concern when her table remained partly vacant half an hour later. Maybe he got caught up in a last minute task at work or stuck in inner city construction traffic. The latter was highly likely and would explain why he didn't bother texting. Matt was a stickler for the letter of the law.

Kay shredded her napkin into long fine strips while she waited. At the hour mark, Joon quietly asked her if she'd like to order to go. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, no longer hungry despite the yawning pit in her stomach. She got two orders of pho to go, even though it was never as good as it was fresh, it would still be delicious heated up at home, well worth the twenty bucks she couldn't afford to spend. It was well past two in the afternoon by the time she carefully tucked her pho to go behind the drivers seat and began the trek through traffic home. This early, she missed the majority of the evening commute, a slight turn to her fortune, and got home to their empty shared alley driveway beside Matt's brownstone duplex. Here she met a dilemma. Matt always made her park closer to the street since she left first in the morning. Not that that would be an issue anymore. 

Well, if he asked, it would serve as the ideal segue into the conversation. She snagged their pho from the back, the bag soggy where the broth inevitably sloshed at every pothole, and ignored her busted box of office nick knacks. Kay didn't realize how weary she was of the whole damn day until she dragged herself up the stairs to Matt's apartment. There was a small stack of innocuous boxes stacked beside the door. Matt wasn't exactly frugal, though the number surprised her. She ignored them as she went to let herself in. Or tried to.

Kay juggled the soggy bag of pho and her keys. The lock refused to turn. What the hell? She finally gave up and dug out her cell. She set the pho down and prayed the heat didn't leave a mark on the hardwood floor. Her call went straight to his voicemail.

"Hey babe, just wondering when you're getting home. Something's wrong with my key and I can't get into the apartment. Love you."

She slid down the wall, absently fiddling with the chasm of a hole in her slacks, her stomach growling anew for the cooling pho beside her. If he got home at his normal time, she was in for a four hour wait. She regretted not eating at the restaurant.

Bored and famished, she browsed Facebook on her phone, idly scrolling the feed until something made her thumb press hard on the screen.

Matt Folger changed his status from 'in a relationship' to 'single'.

"What. The. Shit."

Kay looked at the stack of boxes on the other side of the door as she hit redial. The tone rang and rang as a sinking sensation deepened in her stomach. He wouldn't. He couldn't.

"Yes?" 

"Why can't I get into the apartment?" She stared at the boxes and counted under her breath. She didn't even get to three.

"I had the locks changed this afternoon. Your belongings were boxed and placed outside the door by my assistant." He did.

Kay's mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to process the sudden corkscrew in her reality. "Are you for real right now?"

"I am perfectly serious, Kay."

"What--" she clutched the cell to her ear, her outrage shrinking into a tight ball of disbelief. This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening? "What did I do?"

"Your stint at the firm today proved we are in two different places as individuals."

How did he even hear about that? "You're dumping me because I pranked my boss?"

There was a long sigh that made her skin prickle. Matt reminded her too much of PR Rep. Chad. "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be. I am offering us both a clean break."

"You broke up with me over Facebook!" And the world went crazy overnight.

"If you find anything missing, I will have my assistant mail them to you at your new address." There was a pause. Kay waited, hoping this was some terrible April Fool's prank. That had to be it. He couldn't really be doing this. He wouldn't chuck a three year relationship away like a bad business deal.

"Take care, Kay. Call me when you land on your feet."

The bastard! "You can suck my--" The dial tone swallowed up her expletive. It took a heaping pile of sheer willpower not to hurl her cell phone against the wall. The moment punctuated itself as the sodden bag of pho burst into a puddle of lukewarm broth that crept toward her pile of boxes.

Kay stared at her pitiful collection of belongings, as she suddenly found herself jobless, homeless, and single. The cherry on top of this cosmic snowball would be for a jet engine to crash through the ceiling.

At least death by karmic squish would solve some of her problems. Part of her clung to the sad desperate hope this was an extensive prank. That she was being punk'd or in the middle of a twisted dream she would wake up from any minute. But as broth seeped into her suede shoes, reality settled in with damp clarity.

Her belongings took two trips to wedge into the back seat with her box of broken nick knacks. It should have felt like a relief to be done, but it illustrated how easy it was for Matt to cut her out of his life in seven boxes of clothes, books, and miscellany. Now she had to figure out where to sleep tonight.

She left the puddle of pho on the hall floor.