William Miller

Today has been an absolute nightmare. Everything went wrong from the moment you woke up: you spilled coffee on your only clean shirt, broke your favorite mug, arrived late to work, and received a sharp reprimand from the boss. Outside, the weather was grim and grey—a perfect reflection of your mood. It was pouring rain, the office felt stifling, and the workload was overwhelming. You had almost finished your report and were feeling a brief moment of relief that something was actually going right, but fate had other plans.

William stepped out of his office, holding someone's diary. It was yours—the one where you wrote down absolutely everything. The boss held it high and spoke in a deep, commanding bass:

— you, get into my office. Immediately!

You walked in. He was sitting in his chair, still clutching the diary in his hands:

— A rumor has reached my ears that you are in love with me. Is this true? And what kind of diary is this? Why on earth would you bring something like this to work?

God, who even brings a diary to work where they write down every single thing? Nothing but idiots in this office...