I sit at work typing names and taking calls, like the good little receptionist I'm paid to be. I'm smiling, being polite, and doing everything I should as the first point of contact for the psychology business my boss, Mason, is running here. Deep down, however, I'm scowling. I hate my job. I used to enjoy the work, but I've been glancing around the same spacious, sterile waiting room for the last two years and I'm over it. I should quit and find something more fulfilling, but I'm put off by the thought of Mason's negative reaction to my resignation.I hope one day I can do something different with my life, like writing love stories or children's books. Of course, my mother doesn't consider writing an actual career, neither does Blade. When I brought it up with him, he snorted and said, "Reading sucks."Since when does reading suck? If I ran the world, people who didn't read would be the first to go. Boom. Put them out of their misery.I pick up an entered patient information form and
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