Battle of the Parking Space
THE FOLLOWING DAY TASHA GOT THE SPACE, BUT I GOT ANOTHER HOUR’S SLEEP
‘APERSONALITY clash, Mandy,” my boss said when I complained about Tasha. Treated it like a childish squabble. So it was. Tasha was childish. We’d been friends until George allocated me that parking space. I intended to use it even if I had to leave home earlier each morning, which I did have to do as Tasha wouldn’t accept it was mine.
It was the best space – on its own so no idiot could knock their doors into my paintwork, and sheltered by the wall of the maintenance department.
“Thanks, George,” I said to the security guard, when he told me the gate combination was changing.
So sweet of him to tell me personally when he could have emailed. At least I had one decent colleague.
I got some weirdo breathing heavily
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