"Oh no, I'm late! Again!" The brunette quickly grabbed her keys, manila folders, and various other objects that were indiscriminately scattered (among jelly beans, empty water bottles, etc.) on the desk. Not forgetting to grab a hairbrush while she made her way out of the apartment.

Stuffing all her papers into her briefcase, she also tried to multitask by sliding her feet into the new dress shoes that she got just a few days ago. Frustrated at how the delicate straps of the high heels were all tangled around her ankles, she, almost angrily, stepped into a pair of beach flip-flops instead. Those flip-flops were quite a fashion-statement, having two bright and pink fake flowers glued on top of them. Before she locked the door, she quickly grabbed her high heels by their straps.

Her name is Elizabeth Seymour. Being late is just one of her many, myriad, manifold specialties. Today, just like any other day, she had managed to oversleep by half-an-hour, sleeping right through the offensively loud alarm clock. This was quite ludicrous actually, especially since the alarm clock was conveniently put in front of a microphone, which was hooked up to two gigantic speakers that magnified the ear-piercing alarm by about ten times.

This was only her second day on her new job, and she managed to be tardy two days in a row. Yesterday, when she was questioned by her boss Mr. Dayton, (an intimidating old man, who can be friendly sometimes, if he wanted to) she blamed it completely on her alarm clock while madly apologizing to him as if she were confessing her sins to a catholic priest.

Still, her boss wasn't too happy.

"Next time, buy a new alarm clock," he left with that statement. She responded with several firm nods. That evening, she went shopping for a new alarm clock. Unfortunately, she had just discovered that the new clock didn't work either! And she had to risk losing her job, again (tears).

She was still in her car when she saw the little digital clock beside the steering wheel transmogrify from 7:59 to 8:00. Now, she is officially late. Taking in a few deep breaths, she silently prayed that she could sneak into the building without any of her superiors noticing.

"What is going on out there?" she poked her head out of the window as he car slowly rolled to a stop. Wow, this was vaguely familiar, seeing that exactly 24 hours ago, she was in the exact same situation, with yellow cabs surrounding her black Lexus, like a pool of… corn-syrup…engulfing…an ant. This was, precisely, a traffic jam. She was getting exceptionally anxious. She was not ready for another lecture from that grandpa (grandpa: noun/ a nickname used to refer to your superiors who happened to be old and bald.). Actually, it would probably be better if her boss really was her grandpa, then he would perhaps hesitate a moment or two before firing her for being so irresponsible.

Feeling a bit stuffy, she rolled down all her windows, and that was when she overheard some people talking about the traffic jam. Not that she wanted to eavesdrop, but the lady in the cab on her right was being way too loud. (Perhaps her voice is the best alarm clock that Elizabeth can possibly have.) The lady was apparently talking to the taxi driver.

"You know why the traffic jam is so bad? Because that pop group… what are they called again? Oh yeah, 'Zephyr'… so anyways, they are giving a 'surprise' performance in one of those buildings on this street."

"Oh yeah? They are pretty popular right now, Zephyr, I mean. My daughter's crazy about them. I bet their concert is probably late in the afternoon, and it's those crazy fans that line up a week before, blocking off this entire section of the city," the taxi driver replied.

"Zephyr," Elizabeth muttered to herself. 'That sounds familiar. Oh! They work with our company Generation DBX. This is so awesome!!!! I should get their autographs someday.' She couldn't help but smile at the thought of meeting some famous stars. 'They are, after all, very, very hot…'

"Beeeeeeeeeep----------------"

What is that?!?! She was suddenly pulled back to reality from her daydream, realizing that the car behind her had just honked and that all the cars in front of her had sped away, now way ahead of her. Some policemen were flagging the cars to take detours since this street was full of fans waiting for the supposedly "surprise" Zephyr concert. ('how is a surprise, if everyone already know about it?')

She silently rejoiced at the shortness of the traffic jam as she stepped on that accelerator, hard.

"Sorry I'm late!" she practically sprinted into her office. "There was a traffic…" She stopped herself from rambling about the excuses since… there was no one in the office!

"Where is everyone?" she poked her head out into the hallway. No one.

Really unsure of what to do next, she decided to sit down and put on her dress shoes. Those flip-flops were quite inappropriate for work. Since almost all her co-workers were much older than her, she couldn't risk being labeled as some immature teenager-like kid. 'No, no, I'm twenty-three, twenty-three.' She reassured herself.

Elizabeth still didn't have better luck with her shoes than she did earlier in the morning. The straps took a long time to adjust. She had already spent five minutes on the left shoe, and wasn't about to start on the right one soon.