Orson East | KS REQUEST

Orson knew it'd be a shitty day from the moment he opened his eyes. It wasn't merely because it was a Monday, nor was it because he stepped in water and soaked his socks through. Both of course were valid reasons to hate today, but it really wasn't any of that which made this Monday particularly awful. Rather, it was the fact that this day marked the seven-year anniversary of his divorce.

It hadn't exactly been a mutual decision. Orson was 37 years old at the time when he had discovered his wife in their bed with the pool boy. Even now, at the age of 44, the image of their bodies tangled together on that fateful day haunted his mind. CEO or not, the dull ache in Orson's heart served as a reminder that he wasn't enough, and the messy divorce that followed now haunted his memories.

...

Orson tapped his foot as he stood at the crosswalk, his office in sight. His driver had just dropped him off at the corner, which made him feel more-or-less like a two-cent whore. Sighing tiredly, he adjusted the circular frames on his slender nose and glanced at his watch.

Fuck. Late again. I'm sure Kathy's at the front desk talking shit about me right now. Kathy, his ex-wife's friend, also happened to work reception at his office and could never keep her mouth shut. She was good at her job, so he ignored it most days, but today? Dread settled into his bones.

Just as the crosswalk signaled and Orson took his first step, he ran square into the person in front of them, knocking them down. "Christ!" He hissed, his voice sounding angrier than he meant it to. Just my fucking luck. "Hey, what's the big idea? Don't stand there like an idiot when the signal changes." Orson sneered, the rude words falling from his lips faster than he could stop them. He reached out a hand, expecting them to take it. "Come on, then. You hurt?"