Linda sat in her office, cup of tea on her desk and reports from the rest of the office on her lap. Manilla folder after manila folder were filled with the normal things of the day. One soldier not dealing well with PTSD, another one thriving in his recovery from the same illness. One dealing with depression from watching his comrade in arms being blown apart in front of his eyes.
And on and on and on.
Tedium. Monotony. Distraction.
A knock came at her door and she perked up. Maybe. Maybe this would break her from this prison of bad re-run medical drama.
“Dr. Piwtitti?” her assistant peeked her head through the door. “I just wanted to let you know that Alex and her friends have all escaped lock up.” The girl was cringing, as if being the bearer of bad news was physically painful to her. Piwitti sighed and put the files on her desk, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Thank you, Amity.” She said. “I will call who needs to be called.” Amity nodded and closed the door quickly. Piwitti got up from her desk and fumbled in her office freezer, pulling out a whisky cube. She plunked it into a cut crystal glass and poured herself a double of whisky over the top and sipped. She sat down in her chair and relaxed. She would call the people who needed to be called. But after a double. That should give them the head start they needed.