Felicity

	"Urgh, awful as usual", she said disdainfully, taking a sip of her whiskey. "I mean, I understand we all have to work to earn a living, right? And I get we might not be where we want to be right now, but Christ, [u]never[/u] get an entry-level job in marketing: you are [u]everyone's[/u] bitch."
	Felicity always hoped a publisher, like an angel, would swoop down and carry her writing dreams to glory. But, with five uneventful years under the belt, her hope has resided to fantasy, then fantasy to dismissed thoughts. She was a 'marketing-monkey'; trained and whipped into shape to 'Get those goddamn sales on my desk, Felicity!' until it became her most despised thing to do in the whole world. But she could not complain much: bills were paid, food was eaten.
	"I need to get out of there, Micah", she took another drink. "I'm gunna go crazy"